As promised, Part 2 delivered before the weekend. A lot more tickle action in this one for those that like that sort of thing 
For those of you that missed part 1 you don’t have to read it but thing will probably make more sense if you do. Link is: http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?t=69133
*****************
42. 42, picked out in dull gold letters on a thick wooden door. 42, catching the dull orange glow of streetlamps through the trees, winking at her, taunting her as she stood, trembling, her mind racing on the possibilities trapped behind this door. She’d been nervous enough during the drive here, when she’d been expecting a simple hotel room. When she’d seen the small wooden chalets isolated in their own little patch of the grounds she realised that whatever punishment waited for her might be a thousand times worse than she’d feared. After all, in such an isolated environment, there would be virtually no limit to the noise she could make without anyone ever hearing. Her hand tightened around the cool metal of the key, her eyes drifting closed for a moment as she drew a deep, hesitant breath, trying to compose herself. The key clicked home, the door swung open silently and, without another glance backward, Eleanor stepped forward into the darkness.
She fumbled on the wall to the left of the door until her questing fingers found the light switch. Flicking it on she was surprised at the dull glow that lit the room, not at all the almost-blinding light she had been expecting. Her eyes widened slightly as she looked round the living room of the chalet, taking in the seemingly endless rows of display cases, each holding a neatly organised collection of tools she’d only previously fantasized, and in some cases, had nightmares about. Here, a selection of riding crops, there an assortment of small clamps and silver weights. In the far corner a large cabinet with what seemed to be an endless variety of ropes, all in different colours and lengths. Next to her, a velvet lined case presenting a set of pinwheels and black leather gloves which, when she looked closer, had small silver pins sewed along the outside of each finger and all over the palm. And there, on a small pedestal in the middle of the room, a small black felt box, closed, with a mobile telephone lying on top of it.
She was shaking so badly she almost fumbled the phone as she picked it up, her fingers taking three attempts to open the clamshell. On the screen was a simple text message:
“Pet, the door on the right leads to the bathroom. If you need to make use of it I suggest you do so now. When you’re ready, return here and open the box, follow the instructions you find.”
Several minutes later Eleanor flicked the catch on the box and pulled out a crisp white envelope, carefully breaking the wax seal as she opened it and pulled out the single sheet of paper.
“Pet, what waits for you tonight will be the most excruciating, and exhilarating, experience of your life. It will not be an easy thing, but nothing worthwhile ever is. You will be given a series of instructions, and asked certain questions, by an associate of mine. You would be well advised to obey without hesitation or things will go far worse for you than they need. There will be no need to ask questions, all the information you need will be provided. Myself, I will give you only two instructions. First, strip. You may leave your clothes on the floor in this room, they will be quite safe.”
Eleanor swallowed, her heart racing as she slid her jeans to the ground, her arms trembling so badly she struggled to remove her top. Even now, committed as she was to following this path through to its end, she found herself having to take several deep breaths before managing to free herself from her underwear, watching as it fell down, almost in slow motion, to the pile of cloth at her feet, . A cool breeze fluttered across her naked skin, goosebumps puckering at the chill touch as she reached once more for the letter.
“Remove the collar from the box and put it on. From this point on, not just tonight but also at any time when you are being punished, you will wear this collar.”
The cool leather of the collar felt surprisingly good against her throat as she threaded the strap through the clasp and cinched it tight.
“Finally, there is a blindfold in the bottom of the box. On the floor in front of the door to your left is a black cross. Kneel there, and then put on the blindfold. Make sure it fits correctly, not a single ray of light should be seen. From that moment on you belong to my associate, and through them you belong to me, until such time as they, and they alone, decide you have paid for your mistakes.”
Almost in tears from the mix of fear and excitement coursing through her veins, Eleanor gently pulled the blindfold from the box and carefully refolded the letter then tucked the envelope back into the box. Sinking to her knees at the indicated spot she brought the blindfold to her eyes and secured the elastic strap around her head. Carefully she worked the blindfold around, pushing the edges down until the darkness was absolute, her hands dropping to her sides as her remaining senses shifted into overdrive.
The click of what Eleanor assumed was the bedroom door unlocking seemed as loud as a gunshot, the slight breeze of its opening carrying a suggestion of an exotic scent to her as she felt, rather than heard, someone move towards her, the carpet effectively silencing their movements. She almost jumped out of her skin as a hand touched her neck, long and delicate fingers tracing her collarbone, dropping down to caress her chest, playing briefly with her nipples before withdrawing. Then a gentle snap as something was attached to a metal loop on her collar, a hand on her back, urging her forward until she was on all fours, the hand withdrawing again as soon as she did so. A tugging on the leather band around her neck moved her forward, her heart pounding fit to burst as she crawled into the unknown blackness.
After what felt like hours the hand returned, pressing gently against her shoulder as the pressure on her throat eased. Once more the hand travelled downwards, this time tracing her arms, taking her hand and guiding her up on to what had to be bed. Once more she crawled forward, though this time for only a few seconds until she was once again halted. Now the hand was joined by a second, gently nudging her down to lie flat on her belly, spreading her arms and legs out. Once the hands seemed content with her position one withdrew, the other gently tracing down her right leg until, as it arrived at her ankle, a cold strip of leather was slipped round her flesh. Almost instantly it was pulled tight, pulling her leg slightly further from her body. The process was repeated, first for her left arm, then her left leg, each time restricting her movement still further. The hands seemed to pause then, as if letting her consider her position, before beginning their final journey up her right arm.
As the last restraint closed over her flesh Eleanor suddenly realised what she must look like, tied down naked, blinded, and utterly helpless to this unknown captor and despite herself she let slip a low moan of pleasure.
Instantly a hand swatted her, two quick sharp stinging slaps to each buttock. She flinched, not so much with pain as surprise, redoubled as her automatic instinct to move away was thwarted by the bonds that held her. Closing her eyes behind the blindfold she sucked in a couple of deep breaths, calming herself as best she could, waiting for whatever was to come.
The moments stretched out, her stinging in her flesh dimming into memory as more seconds passed. Every sense strained to catch even the smallest noise, the slightest hint of where the next attack may come from. But she might as well have been locked in a vacuum, and still the seconds stretched. Her blood pounded in her ears as her mind started to run away from her. What if she’d been abandoned? Tied up tight, unable to move, no one knowing where she was. Would the hotel staff find her like this in the morning? Would they find her at all? Would anyone find her, would she ever get out of here or would she stay like this, trapped, helpless, starving to death as her screams grew ever weaker, trapped, trapped trapped as the blackness descended over her, smothering her…
The instant she opened her mouth to scream at the nightmare her mind was conjuring the hands struck. Diving down without warning, digging in along her rib cage, fluttering against her skin, kneading her sides, turning her intended shriek into a torrent of laughter. Her thoughts raced, momentarily caught between the disasters she’d imagined and the torturous reality her body was experiencing. Even as she snapped back to the here and now a small, detached part of her mind realised those few seconds had been vital, removing any chance she may have had of resisting the massive tickle attack being mounted against her sides as fingers darted with pinpoint accuracy up to her armpits then raced back down, hitting ticklish spots she would never have imagined she had on their way to circle her hips before reversing direction to do it all over again.
Her body reacted instinctively, bucking and writhing as she struggled desperately for a way out, for escape even for a split second from the hands tormenting her. She twisted this way and that searching for even the smallest hint of movement in her restraints. But they were tied far too well, the only movement she had was that afforded to her by her natural flexibility and at that moment it felt hopelessly inadequate.
Gradually, so gradually she was barely aware of it, the tickling fingers moved out over an ever-wider area. Speeding up and slowing down, never remaining constant or giving her any hint as to where they may wander next. One moment all ten fingers fluttering around her neck, pulling high pitched squeaks from her as she tried to bat them away with her cheeks. The next, five fingers circling and dive-bombing her armpit while their friends danced a slow waltz over her back, her squeaks turned to laughter that could never settle on a single pitch for more than an instant. Then switching, a single finger tracing a line round her hips and ass, more frustrating than torture, an itch she couldn’t scratch as she whined in protest. A sudden fandango over her ribs causing a gale of silent screams as she was caught off guard yet again. And all the time those damnable fingers kept returning to spots that seemed to flick every ticklish switch at once. Once they found such a point they never seemed to forget it, returning with almost tangible glee whenever she showed signs of flagging to pull impossibly loud, deep and rich laughter from deep in her throat.
Seconds turned into minutes and Eleanor felt herself starting to tire. The laughter, and that same detached part of her mind couldn’t help but marvel at the range and volume of that laughter, kept coming but now she could feel the first dull ache as her lungs started to demand air. The hands seemed to realise the demands her body was making and for a few blissful seconds travelled slowly up her back, tickling only gently as they traced her spine up to her neck, dancing lightly over her shoulders as she gulped desperate breaths in between an otherwise constant stream of giggles. The ache ebbed and she felt herself start to relax slightly under the skilled caress of those wonderful fingers. For a brief, ecstatic moment they curled around her shoulders and worked the muscles in a way that seemed in some odd way familiar and a moan was teased unbidden from her lips.
Immediately she realised she’d made her second mistake of the night, one hand moving to the small of her back, pressing down and holding her in place as the other rained blows on her ass, ten strokes each side this time and far harder than before. By the time the last one landed she was fighting back tears and biting her lip to keep from crying out, knowing instinctively that to do so would only make things worse. For a long moment there was nothing but the hand holding her down, then its twin wrapped itself around her right shoulder, a single squeeze reassuring her. To her amazement Eleanor felt a wave of pride wash over her at pleasing her tormenter. In that moment of shock and surprise the hand on her shoulder loosed its grip, as did the one on her back, and suddenly all ten fingers were scratching at her armpits, catching her utterly unprepared just as they had before.
Now though there was no doubt that those hands were no longer playing. Any pretence at teasing her was abandoned as they raced up and down her sides, utterly relentless at probing her most sensitive areas and sending her into convulsions as she fought desperately for a way, any way, out. Once more she felt that same dull ache as her breath failed her, and as before her unseen tormenter seemed to realise her condition. Now though there was no break, no opportunity for rest. Instead, for the first time, the hands dipped below her waist, tracing first the outside of her thighs then crossing over the back of her knees for the return trip.
As they worked their way up the smooth silky skin of her inner thighs Eleanor felt, to her utter astonishment, another ache join the one in her chest. This though was centred lower down, burning more brightly with every inch those fingers covered. Once more she felt a moan rise within her but this time she forced it back down, burying it under a renewed wave of laughter as the hands moved up slightly to tease the curve of her buttocks. Unbidden her hips twitched, rising up slightly as if to highlight her need to her captor. One hand reversed course, slipping between her legs and ass, teasing her flesh as they moved at a snails pace towards her pussy even as the other raced downwards and started to scrape and prove her knees.
She shook with laughter once more, her need for air now burning as hotly as her desire. As the outermost tip of a finger touched her pussy she saw spots explode in front of her eyes, a myriad of colours dancing against the blackness of the blindfold. Unbidden her fingers clenched tightly into fists, then relaxed, then clenched, over and over again. Every muscle strained, her mind and body utterly unable to process the myriad of sensations raining down upon them. The hand at her pussy gently touched against her lips as the other raced up her thigh to join its partner. For one glorious moment she felt ten fingers poised with a grace and dignity she knew she could never match at the entrance to her most private area, the tickling stopped now allowing her to focus on what was to come. She drew a deep shuddering breath, every once of willpower called into play to stop herself begging for the full contact she so desperately desired. The fingers seemed to tense against her…
And dove upwards, sliding up onto her mound, racing up to her waist than back down, coming within a hairs breadth of touching her where she most desperately wanted, needed them to but never quite making contact. She howled, frustrated desire and desperation at the promise of yet more tickling combining to form an almost physical force. The spots seemed to spread before her, the edges of her vision going from black to a dull red. Over and over those cursed hands teased and tickled her flesh, knowing seemingly exactly where and when to cause the most stimulation. The redness grew, clouding her vision as she panted for air, laughter now reduced to a wheezing gasp as she twitched weakly in her bonds. She would, at that moment, have done anything, everything, for the hands to stop, for a moment of mercy or kindness from her tormenter. She tried desperately to talk, to say something, to plead, to beg, but there was no air left in her lungs. Her vision swam red, then a black blanket washed over her and she collapsed unconscious to the bed beneath her.
The first thing Eleanor was aware of was something held tight against her nose and mouth. Her instinct was to bat it away, but she had no strength to move so much as a finger. As she stirred a hand pressed against her back and a voice, familiar yet not, echoed in her ears.
“Shhh, easy, it’s just a little oxygen to help you recover. Take a few more deep breaths, that’s a good girl….”
With the oxygen came a slow trickle of memory, the details of her ordeal coming slowly back to her mind. Experimentally she gently tugged an arm, unsurprised to find it still tightly restrained. The oxygen mask was pulled from her face, and once again the maddeningly familiar voice spoke.
“While you’re recovering I’m going to turn you over. Just relax and keep taking deep steady breaths for me.”
There were a few moments of silence, then the sound of leather on leather, as if a belt or strap was moving against itself. Her left arm was suddenly released from its bondage, then her right, but she had no strength in her to so much as raise a hand, let alone fight for her freedom. Her arms were moved, crossed over each other above her head before being tied once more in their restraints. The process was repeated for her legs and, while she felt her strength retuning, she realised that fighting now would be pointless. She would need at least one arm free to get out of here and any resistance now would surely be punished. Again the voice spoke, lips so close to her ear she could feel the warm breath.
“Now, in a moment I’m going to turn you over and when I do I want you to roll in that direction until you’re on your back. Co-operate and I’ll take that blindfold off and keep it off. Fail to follow this instruction and I’ll spank that sopping wet pussy until its red raw.”
With that Eleanor felt two hands slide under her right side and gently lift her slightly. Taking the hint she slowly rolled over, coming to rest on her back. As she did so her arms and legs uncrossed and, a moment later, the straps were pulled tight once more so that she was again spread-eagled on the bed. A hand slowly traced its way up her flat stomach, circling her breasts in slow, almost random patterns before continuing up to her face. Another hand joined it and Eleanor felt them gently ease the elastic of the blindfold up, removing it in a quick motion that left her blinking as light poured in, blinding her for a few seconds.
As the blurs swam back into focus she raised her head, looking first down the length of her own body and feeling the same thrill she had experienced earlier as she compared the reality to her fantasies. As her gaze passed her feet she realised she was not alone. Standing at the foot of the bed were a pair of long legs encased in simple black tights, a short red leather skirt starting at mid thigh. Her gaze travelled up over a black velvet corset, tied somewhat loosely in front, its top hidden by a mass of red hair. Eleanor felt her breath catch in her throat as she finally saw the face of her tormentor, the smooth skin, the strong jaw and most of all those all-too-familiar green eyes staring back at her with a mix of pride, strength and love. For a long moment Eleanor felt as if the world had stopped, her fantasies and reality merging in a way she had never thought possible as stammered one word:
“J…Julie?”
For those of you that missed part 1 you don’t have to read it but thing will probably make more sense if you do. Link is: http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?t=69133*****************
42. 42, picked out in dull gold letters on a thick wooden door. 42, catching the dull orange glow of streetlamps through the trees, winking at her, taunting her as she stood, trembling, her mind racing on the possibilities trapped behind this door. She’d been nervous enough during the drive here, when she’d been expecting a simple hotel room. When she’d seen the small wooden chalets isolated in their own little patch of the grounds she realised that whatever punishment waited for her might be a thousand times worse than she’d feared. After all, in such an isolated environment, there would be virtually no limit to the noise she could make without anyone ever hearing. Her hand tightened around the cool metal of the key, her eyes drifting closed for a moment as she drew a deep, hesitant breath, trying to compose herself. The key clicked home, the door swung open silently and, without another glance backward, Eleanor stepped forward into the darkness.
She fumbled on the wall to the left of the door until her questing fingers found the light switch. Flicking it on she was surprised at the dull glow that lit the room, not at all the almost-blinding light she had been expecting. Her eyes widened slightly as she looked round the living room of the chalet, taking in the seemingly endless rows of display cases, each holding a neatly organised collection of tools she’d only previously fantasized, and in some cases, had nightmares about. Here, a selection of riding crops, there an assortment of small clamps and silver weights. In the far corner a large cabinet with what seemed to be an endless variety of ropes, all in different colours and lengths. Next to her, a velvet lined case presenting a set of pinwheels and black leather gloves which, when she looked closer, had small silver pins sewed along the outside of each finger and all over the palm. And there, on a small pedestal in the middle of the room, a small black felt box, closed, with a mobile telephone lying on top of it.
She was shaking so badly she almost fumbled the phone as she picked it up, her fingers taking three attempts to open the clamshell. On the screen was a simple text message:
“Pet, the door on the right leads to the bathroom. If you need to make use of it I suggest you do so now. When you’re ready, return here and open the box, follow the instructions you find.”
Several minutes later Eleanor flicked the catch on the box and pulled out a crisp white envelope, carefully breaking the wax seal as she opened it and pulled out the single sheet of paper.
“Pet, what waits for you tonight will be the most excruciating, and exhilarating, experience of your life. It will not be an easy thing, but nothing worthwhile ever is. You will be given a series of instructions, and asked certain questions, by an associate of mine. You would be well advised to obey without hesitation or things will go far worse for you than they need. There will be no need to ask questions, all the information you need will be provided. Myself, I will give you only two instructions. First, strip. You may leave your clothes on the floor in this room, they will be quite safe.”
Eleanor swallowed, her heart racing as she slid her jeans to the ground, her arms trembling so badly she struggled to remove her top. Even now, committed as she was to following this path through to its end, she found herself having to take several deep breaths before managing to free herself from her underwear, watching as it fell down, almost in slow motion, to the pile of cloth at her feet, . A cool breeze fluttered across her naked skin, goosebumps puckering at the chill touch as she reached once more for the letter.
“Remove the collar from the box and put it on. From this point on, not just tonight but also at any time when you are being punished, you will wear this collar.”
The cool leather of the collar felt surprisingly good against her throat as she threaded the strap through the clasp and cinched it tight.
“Finally, there is a blindfold in the bottom of the box. On the floor in front of the door to your left is a black cross. Kneel there, and then put on the blindfold. Make sure it fits correctly, not a single ray of light should be seen. From that moment on you belong to my associate, and through them you belong to me, until such time as they, and they alone, decide you have paid for your mistakes.”
Almost in tears from the mix of fear and excitement coursing through her veins, Eleanor gently pulled the blindfold from the box and carefully refolded the letter then tucked the envelope back into the box. Sinking to her knees at the indicated spot she brought the blindfold to her eyes and secured the elastic strap around her head. Carefully she worked the blindfold around, pushing the edges down until the darkness was absolute, her hands dropping to her sides as her remaining senses shifted into overdrive.
The click of what Eleanor assumed was the bedroom door unlocking seemed as loud as a gunshot, the slight breeze of its opening carrying a suggestion of an exotic scent to her as she felt, rather than heard, someone move towards her, the carpet effectively silencing their movements. She almost jumped out of her skin as a hand touched her neck, long and delicate fingers tracing her collarbone, dropping down to caress her chest, playing briefly with her nipples before withdrawing. Then a gentle snap as something was attached to a metal loop on her collar, a hand on her back, urging her forward until she was on all fours, the hand withdrawing again as soon as she did so. A tugging on the leather band around her neck moved her forward, her heart pounding fit to burst as she crawled into the unknown blackness.
After what felt like hours the hand returned, pressing gently against her shoulder as the pressure on her throat eased. Once more the hand travelled downwards, this time tracing her arms, taking her hand and guiding her up on to what had to be bed. Once more she crawled forward, though this time for only a few seconds until she was once again halted. Now the hand was joined by a second, gently nudging her down to lie flat on her belly, spreading her arms and legs out. Once the hands seemed content with her position one withdrew, the other gently tracing down her right leg until, as it arrived at her ankle, a cold strip of leather was slipped round her flesh. Almost instantly it was pulled tight, pulling her leg slightly further from her body. The process was repeated, first for her left arm, then her left leg, each time restricting her movement still further. The hands seemed to pause then, as if letting her consider her position, before beginning their final journey up her right arm.
As the last restraint closed over her flesh Eleanor suddenly realised what she must look like, tied down naked, blinded, and utterly helpless to this unknown captor and despite herself she let slip a low moan of pleasure.
Instantly a hand swatted her, two quick sharp stinging slaps to each buttock. She flinched, not so much with pain as surprise, redoubled as her automatic instinct to move away was thwarted by the bonds that held her. Closing her eyes behind the blindfold she sucked in a couple of deep breaths, calming herself as best she could, waiting for whatever was to come.
The moments stretched out, her stinging in her flesh dimming into memory as more seconds passed. Every sense strained to catch even the smallest noise, the slightest hint of where the next attack may come from. But she might as well have been locked in a vacuum, and still the seconds stretched. Her blood pounded in her ears as her mind started to run away from her. What if she’d been abandoned? Tied up tight, unable to move, no one knowing where she was. Would the hotel staff find her like this in the morning? Would they find her at all? Would anyone find her, would she ever get out of here or would she stay like this, trapped, helpless, starving to death as her screams grew ever weaker, trapped, trapped trapped as the blackness descended over her, smothering her…
The instant she opened her mouth to scream at the nightmare her mind was conjuring the hands struck. Diving down without warning, digging in along her rib cage, fluttering against her skin, kneading her sides, turning her intended shriek into a torrent of laughter. Her thoughts raced, momentarily caught between the disasters she’d imagined and the torturous reality her body was experiencing. Even as she snapped back to the here and now a small, detached part of her mind realised those few seconds had been vital, removing any chance she may have had of resisting the massive tickle attack being mounted against her sides as fingers darted with pinpoint accuracy up to her armpits then raced back down, hitting ticklish spots she would never have imagined she had on their way to circle her hips before reversing direction to do it all over again.
Her body reacted instinctively, bucking and writhing as she struggled desperately for a way out, for escape even for a split second from the hands tormenting her. She twisted this way and that searching for even the smallest hint of movement in her restraints. But they were tied far too well, the only movement she had was that afforded to her by her natural flexibility and at that moment it felt hopelessly inadequate.
Gradually, so gradually she was barely aware of it, the tickling fingers moved out over an ever-wider area. Speeding up and slowing down, never remaining constant or giving her any hint as to where they may wander next. One moment all ten fingers fluttering around her neck, pulling high pitched squeaks from her as she tried to bat them away with her cheeks. The next, five fingers circling and dive-bombing her armpit while their friends danced a slow waltz over her back, her squeaks turned to laughter that could never settle on a single pitch for more than an instant. Then switching, a single finger tracing a line round her hips and ass, more frustrating than torture, an itch she couldn’t scratch as she whined in protest. A sudden fandango over her ribs causing a gale of silent screams as she was caught off guard yet again. And all the time those damnable fingers kept returning to spots that seemed to flick every ticklish switch at once. Once they found such a point they never seemed to forget it, returning with almost tangible glee whenever she showed signs of flagging to pull impossibly loud, deep and rich laughter from deep in her throat.
Seconds turned into minutes and Eleanor felt herself starting to tire. The laughter, and that same detached part of her mind couldn’t help but marvel at the range and volume of that laughter, kept coming but now she could feel the first dull ache as her lungs started to demand air. The hands seemed to realise the demands her body was making and for a few blissful seconds travelled slowly up her back, tickling only gently as they traced her spine up to her neck, dancing lightly over her shoulders as she gulped desperate breaths in between an otherwise constant stream of giggles. The ache ebbed and she felt herself start to relax slightly under the skilled caress of those wonderful fingers. For a brief, ecstatic moment they curled around her shoulders and worked the muscles in a way that seemed in some odd way familiar and a moan was teased unbidden from her lips.
Immediately she realised she’d made her second mistake of the night, one hand moving to the small of her back, pressing down and holding her in place as the other rained blows on her ass, ten strokes each side this time and far harder than before. By the time the last one landed she was fighting back tears and biting her lip to keep from crying out, knowing instinctively that to do so would only make things worse. For a long moment there was nothing but the hand holding her down, then its twin wrapped itself around her right shoulder, a single squeeze reassuring her. To her amazement Eleanor felt a wave of pride wash over her at pleasing her tormenter. In that moment of shock and surprise the hand on her shoulder loosed its grip, as did the one on her back, and suddenly all ten fingers were scratching at her armpits, catching her utterly unprepared just as they had before.
Now though there was no doubt that those hands were no longer playing. Any pretence at teasing her was abandoned as they raced up and down her sides, utterly relentless at probing her most sensitive areas and sending her into convulsions as she fought desperately for a way, any way, out. Once more she felt that same dull ache as her breath failed her, and as before her unseen tormenter seemed to realise her condition. Now though there was no break, no opportunity for rest. Instead, for the first time, the hands dipped below her waist, tracing first the outside of her thighs then crossing over the back of her knees for the return trip.
As they worked their way up the smooth silky skin of her inner thighs Eleanor felt, to her utter astonishment, another ache join the one in her chest. This though was centred lower down, burning more brightly with every inch those fingers covered. Once more she felt a moan rise within her but this time she forced it back down, burying it under a renewed wave of laughter as the hands moved up slightly to tease the curve of her buttocks. Unbidden her hips twitched, rising up slightly as if to highlight her need to her captor. One hand reversed course, slipping between her legs and ass, teasing her flesh as they moved at a snails pace towards her pussy even as the other raced downwards and started to scrape and prove her knees.
She shook with laughter once more, her need for air now burning as hotly as her desire. As the outermost tip of a finger touched her pussy she saw spots explode in front of her eyes, a myriad of colours dancing against the blackness of the blindfold. Unbidden her fingers clenched tightly into fists, then relaxed, then clenched, over and over again. Every muscle strained, her mind and body utterly unable to process the myriad of sensations raining down upon them. The hand at her pussy gently touched against her lips as the other raced up her thigh to join its partner. For one glorious moment she felt ten fingers poised with a grace and dignity she knew she could never match at the entrance to her most private area, the tickling stopped now allowing her to focus on what was to come. She drew a deep shuddering breath, every once of willpower called into play to stop herself begging for the full contact she so desperately desired. The fingers seemed to tense against her…
And dove upwards, sliding up onto her mound, racing up to her waist than back down, coming within a hairs breadth of touching her where she most desperately wanted, needed them to but never quite making contact. She howled, frustrated desire and desperation at the promise of yet more tickling combining to form an almost physical force. The spots seemed to spread before her, the edges of her vision going from black to a dull red. Over and over those cursed hands teased and tickled her flesh, knowing seemingly exactly where and when to cause the most stimulation. The redness grew, clouding her vision as she panted for air, laughter now reduced to a wheezing gasp as she twitched weakly in her bonds. She would, at that moment, have done anything, everything, for the hands to stop, for a moment of mercy or kindness from her tormenter. She tried desperately to talk, to say something, to plead, to beg, but there was no air left in her lungs. Her vision swam red, then a black blanket washed over her and she collapsed unconscious to the bed beneath her.
The first thing Eleanor was aware of was something held tight against her nose and mouth. Her instinct was to bat it away, but she had no strength to move so much as a finger. As she stirred a hand pressed against her back and a voice, familiar yet not, echoed in her ears.
“Shhh, easy, it’s just a little oxygen to help you recover. Take a few more deep breaths, that’s a good girl….”
With the oxygen came a slow trickle of memory, the details of her ordeal coming slowly back to her mind. Experimentally she gently tugged an arm, unsurprised to find it still tightly restrained. The oxygen mask was pulled from her face, and once again the maddeningly familiar voice spoke.
“While you’re recovering I’m going to turn you over. Just relax and keep taking deep steady breaths for me.”
There were a few moments of silence, then the sound of leather on leather, as if a belt or strap was moving against itself. Her left arm was suddenly released from its bondage, then her right, but she had no strength in her to so much as raise a hand, let alone fight for her freedom. Her arms were moved, crossed over each other above her head before being tied once more in their restraints. The process was repeated for her legs and, while she felt her strength retuning, she realised that fighting now would be pointless. She would need at least one arm free to get out of here and any resistance now would surely be punished. Again the voice spoke, lips so close to her ear she could feel the warm breath.
“Now, in a moment I’m going to turn you over and when I do I want you to roll in that direction until you’re on your back. Co-operate and I’ll take that blindfold off and keep it off. Fail to follow this instruction and I’ll spank that sopping wet pussy until its red raw.”
With that Eleanor felt two hands slide under her right side and gently lift her slightly. Taking the hint she slowly rolled over, coming to rest on her back. As she did so her arms and legs uncrossed and, a moment later, the straps were pulled tight once more so that she was again spread-eagled on the bed. A hand slowly traced its way up her flat stomach, circling her breasts in slow, almost random patterns before continuing up to her face. Another hand joined it and Eleanor felt them gently ease the elastic of the blindfold up, removing it in a quick motion that left her blinking as light poured in, blinding her for a few seconds.
As the blurs swam back into focus she raised her head, looking first down the length of her own body and feeling the same thrill she had experienced earlier as she compared the reality to her fantasies. As her gaze passed her feet she realised she was not alone. Standing at the foot of the bed were a pair of long legs encased in simple black tights, a short red leather skirt starting at mid thigh. Her gaze travelled up over a black velvet corset, tied somewhat loosely in front, its top hidden by a mass of red hair. Eleanor felt her breath catch in her throat as she finally saw the face of her tormentor, the smooth skin, the strong jaw and most of all those all-too-familiar green eyes staring back at her with a mix of pride, strength and love. For a long moment Eleanor felt as if the world had stopped, her fantasies and reality merging in a way she had never thought possible as stammered one word:
“J…Julie?”
As you probably know, BOFH, I'm a big fan of your stories. My favorites are the IT stories you posted long ago. This has all the hallmarks of another terrific series. I can't wait for the next story in this series. Well actually, I guess I'll have to wait... but dang it I won't wait patiently! 
