laughter_n_love
TMF Regular
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- Nov 2, 2001
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Out of the Rain (Part 2 of 2)
Out of the Rain (Part 2 of 2)
Tracy looked up at me in disbelief. In our innocent little game of cat and mouse, I had suddenly thrown down the gauntlet. She assumed I was bluffing. "You are pulling my leg, Jonathan, aren't you? There is no way you have a set of stocks here. You are full of it, right?" She searched my face, looking for evidence to support her doubts. My smiling countenance betrayed nothing.
"Follow me," I repeated, extending my hand to her.
She placed her small porcelain hand in mine, and I helped her to her feet. The large blanket fell to the floor, and the magazine in her lap fell to the cushions awkwardly, but neither of us acknowledged these things. We only had eyes for each other. I was drinking all of her petite form in, from her innocent angelic face with the sparkling eyes and tiny rosebud of a mouth, to the mane of wet curls that seemed wild and unkempt yet somehow shaped her face perfectly, to the way my oversized sweats hung limply from her shoulders but still managed to hint at the magnificence of a tiny figure hidden beneath, to her heavenly little white feet with the red toenail polish that I simply couldn't keep my eyes away from. Tracy seemed captivated with me as well, although her gaze never wavered from my eyes. The look from her eyes was both curious and knowing, if such a thing is possible. Her look suggested that she did not believe what was happening was actually happening, and if she only stared long enough into my eyes, the answers would all be revealed to her. At the same time, I could see in her eyes that she was fully aware of what was transpiring, and that knowledge both excited and terrified her. She looked like a person who was about to realize a long held fantasy after so many years of being resigned to the fact that it would never come to pass, and now that she was so close to fulfilling that fantasy, the reality of the situation threatened to overwhelm her. I could almost hear her heart thumping madly in her chest. She suddenly seemed surprisingly sober for one so little having consumed so much wine.
I led us by candlelight up the stairs that led to the cabin's second floor. As I had not previously lit any candles up there, our only light came from the one candle I held out before us. She gripped my hand tightly, perhaps out of fear or anticipation or maybe both. Her body pressed rather close to mine, and I could smell the fragrance of her hair and feel the warmth of her body. The bulge in my pants was practically screaming now. I fought the urge to hurry up the dark staircase.
At the second floor, I led her down the dark hallway, past the open door to my bedroom, which I silently suspected we'd find ourselves in before long, to the closed door of the spare bedroom at the end. I opened it and slowly swung it inward, and it responded by creaking loudly like the mouth of a tomb being uncovered. Tracy jumped and clung closer to me in such a way that I was not at all upset that I hadn't oiled the door's hinges in some time. Cold air washed over us, as the fire down below was not strong enough to have yet warmed this unused room.
We crept quietly into the dark interior. I did not move quickly as I was not all that familiar with this room in the darkness, and the light from our one candle only revealed so much. Finally I was able to locate more candle along the walls, and having lit them, the room in it's entirety was revealed to us.
While it was technically a spare bedroom, there was no spare bed to be found. Nor was there an armoire, a dresser, or furniture of any kind. What the room did contain was a large cloth covered object that was located in the center and took up much of the available space. Tracy looked at it wide-eyed.
"What's that?" she asked in a voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might disturb any ghosts that might inhabit this forgotten room.
"I'll show you," I said. The lack of decor and heat gave the room all the warmth of a meat locker, but cold and chilling was not the mood I was interested in for the game Tracy and I were about to play. Making like I was Lance Burton uncovering one of my spectacular magical surprises, I pulled back the cloth covering with a flourish and a triumphant air. The movement kicked up so much layered dust that both Tracy and I fell into squinting coughing fits for a few moments before we could look upon what was no longer hidden.
The object was a wooden construction of no apparent purpose, until one looked more closely at it. The base of the contraption was a square raised podium. Rising from the edges of the podium were two wooden poles, and attached to each pole was a fur-lined cuff that could be adjusted to different heights by means of pegs. Also rising from the podium, set back from the two poles about a foot or so, was a set of fur-lined ankle stocks, slightly elevated.
Tracy sucked in her breath and held it as she viewed the apparatus, for that's what it was. An apparatus designed for one unique purpose, which the two of us both knew quite well. I stood beside it like the proud owner of a shiny new automobile.
Tracy circled podium, touching the wood with her fingers, making sure it was real. "Where did you get this Jonathan?!" Her eyes held the wonderment of a child's on Christmas morning.
I should have expected the questions, but I was unprepared to answer. "Errrrr...ah...well...I ordered it...from a magazine...a long time ago..."
Tracy was moving past me, and took her hand off the wood long enough to rub it along my shoulders as she passed. I felt goose bumps break out at her touch. "It's magnificent!" she exclaimed. I noticed her pause as a thought entered her brain, and a dark cloud passed over her face. "Have you ever used it?" She was unable to keep the jealousy out of her girlish voice.
"Actually....no. It's just been sitting here....collecting dust."
Tracy immediately brightened. There was something very magical about her and I finding each other tonight, and the idea that I had previously enjoyed the pleasures of this bondage device with another woman was an unpleasant one. The evening would somehow be less special to her if she were not the first and only to ever be held captive in it's wooden clutches.
I took a moment to notice that the storm seemed to be lessening a bit outside, but I wasn't about to share this knowledge with Tracy. The last thing I needed was her deciding now was a good time to go driving in search of help.
Tracy stood on the far side of the apparatus, looking at me with those sparkling eyes. She said nothing, but her face lay on the verge of breaking out into nervous giggles.
"Would you like to try it?" I asked gently.
She bit her lip and nodded her head quickly. I motioned with my eyes for her to climb aboard the podium, but she remained unmoving. She smiled at me, closed her eyes for a few seconds, then looked to the ceiling. With a squinting of her eyes and a tiny little scream, she began with great haste to pull off her sweats. It was as if the courage was required for the act of undressing and not for being nude in front of me. In less than a few moments, she had removed both the sweatshirt and sweat pants and stood naked before me. She held her hands down by her sides, not trying to cover herself, but a delightful rose color crept up her neck and into her cheeks. She was still fighting back the nervous giggles.
My eyes grew wide as they washed over her petite frame. Tracy was tiny, less than 100 pounds I'd say, but she was incredibly well formed. Everything about her seemed small and delicate, from her graceful neck, to the narrow width of her shoulders and slender arms, to the poutiness of her perky breasts, to the smooth curve of her tiny waist, to her shapely hips and mouth watering legs, down to those precious little feet that I so adored. Her breasts were in proportion to the rest of her, but they were nicely rounded and ideally formed, with small dark nipples that I notice were already hardened with anticipation. Her flat belly was ornamented with a navel ring, and the tiniest patch of trimmed hair peeked out from between her legs. To coin an overused phrase, she was to die for. I would have loved her even if she did not share my fetish, so incredibly attracted to her I was.
Tracy embodied the best of all worlds. Her frailty radiated a girlish innocence that I found charming beyond belief. In a heartbeat, I could tell she was the type of girl I'd be racing home to introduce to the family. She'd be the life of the office Christmas party. She'd coo and gurgle over my every affection in such a way that I'd be tripping over myself to shower her with gifts and romantic gestures. She'd take my arm in public and I'd float along beside her, unable to believe my good fortune at having someone so heavenly by my side. At night she'd lay her head on my chest and wrap her little body around mine, and we'd sleep the sleep of the fulfilled and contented. I saw in Tracy everything I had ever wanted in a partner.
But that was only part of it. Her body was so perfect in every way that I lusted for her like I'd never lusted for a woman in my life. Sure, I could take her home to meet Mom, but once the bedroom door closed, the niceties would be over. She had a body that screamed to be enjoyed, a figure that demanded to be explored. She would quiver and tremble as my lover's touch caressed and worshipped the entirety of her body. She would respond like the primal animal she was as my touches became more aggressive, more erotic, more purposeful. She would writhe and moan as I stoked her fires and heightened her arousal by stimulating her erogenous zones. And she would shudder and wail with wild abandon as I pushed her to the point of climax and beyond. Normally, my sexual desires were in direct proportion to the amount of tickling involved in the act. With one look at Tracy, I needed no tickling to want to ravage her again and again. The bulge in my pants was growing painful.
Tracy caught my appreciative looks and was flattered to the point of beaming. While it was obvious that she was not entirely comfortable being naked in front of me, she was not ashamed of her body, and was pleased that I liked what I saw. If she only knew!
Without a word, she nimbly climbed onto the platform and knelt in position. I raised to the top of the stocks helped guide her ankles into the holes. Once in place, I lowered the top and locked the device. Her feet looked even tinier in their helpless predicament.
She was looking back over her shoulder, watching me work, holding onto the poles for support. As the wood closed down over her ankles, the nervous giggles involuntarily slipped out. She gave a little test pull on her ankles and found them to be completely immobile. I saw goose bumps break out over her arms, although whether that was from the chill in the room or the realization that her fantasy was starting to come true I didn't know.
I moved around to her front, where she was blushing furiously at me again. My eyes were basically at the height of her nipples, and she had to hold onto the poles to keep from falling forwards into me and smothering my face with them. I smiled a reassuring smile at her and took one of her small wrists in my hands. She did not resists as I placed it within the fur lined cuff, which I then raised as far as I felt was safe before pegging it into place. I repeated the motion with her other wrist, and soon she was hanging by her wrists. The cuffs did not allow her to hold onto the poles for support any longer, so her body weight pressed forward against her will, which brought her face closer to my own. Her eyes were twinkling with excitement, so I took advantage of her helpless situation to stand on my tip toes and press a kiss to her lips. She responded eagerly.
We disengaged from our kiss and I stood back to admire her. Her drying dark curls were falling across one shoulder and partially obscuring her face. Her chest was thrust out in my direction, as if begging to be touched. Her ribs showed nicely on either side, and her belly was as taut as a bowstring. And there was just enough space between the parting of her legs to give me thoughts of forgetting my intentions and ravaging her right there. Add to that the face of an angel, excitement and a hint of fear showing clearly across her features, and I was spellbound by the sight before me.
Tracy giggled at my dazed look. "You are silly, Jonathan." I couldn't get enough of hearing her say my name with that cute little voice of hers.
"You are incredible!" It was the only thing I could think of to say in return. It also happened to be the truth.
She giggled and blushed again. Oh how I loved the irony. She was eager enough to strip before me without my even asking, and adventurous enough to let me, practically a complete stranger, tie her up in such a revealing fashion, but she was still demure enough to be embarrassed by a simple compliment. She was simply too precious for words.
A little pout appeared on her lips. "What's the matter?" I asked, confused.
"I want to see!" She protested in a childlike fashion. She was referring to herself of course. After fantasizing for years about being tied, naked and helpless, and after seeing a magazine just a few minutes ago depicting attractive women bound and tickled, Tracy wanted to see what she looked like in the role of the victim. I couldn't blame her. I'd probably want to see what I looked like too.
"Hang on!" I said, sprinting from the room. In a flash I was back, holding the dressing mirror that normally stood in my bedroom. It was one of those long oval shaped free standing mirrors that could be tilted. I placed the full length reflective surface in front of her and stood to the side so she could see herself.
Tracy's eyes went wide as she looked upon herself, kneeling and naked, bound and exposed. She struggled a bit in the cuffs, just to see herself struggle, and wiggled her hips a little, just to see herself wiggle, and I could tell she liked what she saw. I know I did.
Satisfied with admiring herself, she once again looked to me, her anticipation growing. I grinned, knowing that the real game was about to begin. "Are you ready?" I asked.
Her answer surprised me. "Do I have a choice?"
"Nope!" I said, and we both giggled.
The podium that served as the base of the bondage device was hollowed out and served as a cabinet. I knelt before her and opened it. She looked down but could not see what I was doing, but there was no question in her eyes when I stood again, holding two stiff looking feathers.
I stood before her, twirling the feathers in my fingers and grinning. Her eyes moved rapidly from feather to feather, and her breathing quickened a bit. As I approached her, she startled me with a question. "Are you going to taunt me?"
"Taunt you?"
"Yeah. You know. Say those little silly things that make it worse?"
"Do you want me too?"
She thought for a moment. "Yeah. Why not. May as well go for broke here, right?"
"Right."
I reached up with my two long feathers and tickled down her arms from the cuffs to her elbows. I saw her break out in goose flesh at the very first touch, and already a mile wide smile was on her lips. "Most ticklish person on the planet, eh? We'll see about that."
She sputtered a little giggle at my words which she quickly stifled. The tips of my feathers were languishing in her inner elbows, and I her arms jerked to avoid them. Her gaze switched from watching the feathers in action to watching the reflection of herself being tickled in the mirror. I couldn't help but notice how hard her tiny nipples were, so close to my face.
She wanted taunting, so taunting I was determined to give her. "I sure hope those underarms of yours aren't ticklish. These feathers are awwwwwwfully close to them." I was now tickling her biceps and triceps with the plumes.
She was alternating between involuntary giggles and regaining her composure. I could tell that it was already a struggle for her, and I hadn't even approached any good spots yet. "N-n-nope! Not ticklish AIIIT all!" she managed to stammer out, nearly unable to finish her sentence.
I grinned at her. "Now now Tracy. I don't think you are telling me the truth. You wouldn't lie to me, would you?" The feathers were dangerously close to both her underarms now.
Tracy's efforts to remain poised was delightful to watch. Like anyone else who loves to tickle, the expressions and the struggling of the ticklee are the golden prizes we the ticklers so long for. It is the fuel that keeps us going. The motivation that makes us want to tickle again and again. Tracy's attempt to fight off the tickling sensations in her arms was priceless to my eyes. But unlike any tickling experience in my life, or even that of my fantasies, watching Tracy struggle was so much better than I ever could have imagined. Not only was I seeing exactly what I wanted to see, and hearing exactly what I wanted to hear, but it was the same if not more for her. She was in the situation she always wanted to be in. She was feeling those sensations that she'd dreamt and dreamt about. She was in every bit as much ecstasy as I was, and that's what made watching Tracy struggle so wonderful to me.
"N-n-no! N-nope! N-n-never!" Forming complex sentences was becoming too difficult between giggles.
"That's good, because if I found out that you were lying to me, you know I'd have to punish you, right?" My feathers 'accidentally' swept across the hollows of her underarms as I finished my question.
Tracy yelped and jumped in her kneeling position. The giggles poured forth, and she was beyond being able to bite them back any longer. Her giggling was like the sound of a tiny musical instrument to me. I could have listened to it for hours.
She hadn't yet answered my question, so I swept the feathers across the sensitive sweet spots under her arms yet again. "Riiiiight?" I coaxed. She yelped again and giggled more intensely, but managed to nod her head in agreement.
"So I'd better find out if you are telling the truth about these underarms." The feathers were once again circling the outer edges of her hollows. "Think I should give them a little test tickle and see?"
Tracy was watching the feathers teasingly circle her underarms in the mirror's reflection. A smile of delight was permanently etched upon her face, but I don't think she trusted her voice anymore. Once again biting back the giggles, she shook her head from side to side in response.
"No? Well, I think I will anyway." And with that, I dragged the stiffness of the feathers in tiny patterns around the center of her underarms.
Tracy squealed with girlish glee and threw her head back. A torrent of musical giggles erupted from her mouth which was stretched wide. She bounced in her bonds as much as the cuffs and stocks would allow. I laughed along with her, despite the painful bulge between my legs that had yet to be freed.
"Sure looks like they are ticklish to me, don't you think?" Tracy wasn't paying attention to my words. She was snapping her head back and forth, watching each wicked feather as I alternately tickled one underarm at a time. Her body swayed in the bonds like some kind of tortured dancer and she strained to avoid the tickling plumes. "Here, I'll prove it to you." I put the feathers in my teeth and briefly tickled both her underarms with my fingers. This fresh new torment had her squealing and bouncing again, and I saw the muscles in her arms struggling in vain to lower themselves for protection.
"Tsk tsk tsk...you lied to me Tracy." I was back to standing in front of her, twirling the feathers menacingly. I was giving her a moment to catch her breath. Between giggles, she tried to look apologetic. She did her best to give me puppy dog eyes, which was not easy because she still wanted to giggle.
"I'm sorry," she whispered in baby talk, so that it sounded like "I'm sowwee". She was having too much fun though, and began to giggle again in spite of herself.
"Sorry won't cut it I'm afraid. I'm going to have to punish you." I was no better at being believable in my 'angry' role, as I couldn't stop smiling and beaming at her.
A look of mock fear came across her face. She caught sight of it in the mirror though, and broke herself up laughing before trying to make it again. "What are you going to do to me?" she whispered softly. As if we both didn't already know. Her smile was not to be denied, as she was unable to sustain her look of fear, despite her best efforts.
"I could stretch you." Tracy "oooooh'd" with wide eyes.
"Or I could spank you." Tracy "ahhhhh'd", and wiggled her bottom as if the prospect wasn't entirely unappealing.
"Or I could make you walk barefoot across hot coals!" Tracy squeaked in mock fright.
"But I think I'll just TICKLE YOU!" I dropped both feathers and attacked her helpless rib cage on both sides.
Tracy exploded again in ticklish ecstasy. Her petite body shook with delight as the laughter sprang forth from her throat. Her bouncing made her perky breasts jiggle prettily, and her hair became mussed with the thrashing of her head. I couldn't get over the softness of her skin, or the vibrations just below the surface that rippled at my every touch. I played her ribs like a grand piano, not having to dig in to reduce her to ticklish jelly. My finger tips flew over the keys, flicking them just enough to produce a wonderful melody of giggles and squeals from Tracy. At the top of this human instrument, I made sure to remind her that her underarms were indeed ticklish. She twisted and pulled in her bonds, but remained stretched just enough to allow my fingertips to glide over her porcelain skin.
It was torture for her, but a welcomed torture that she couldn't get enough of. My intent was neither to push her over the edge nor to grant her any mercy. I would keep her in the ticklish stitches in which she was now held. Unbearable enough to produce unabated laughter and warrant a fierce struggle for escape, but pleasurable enough that I could continue on and on without her ever growing tired of the contest.
I was in Heaven. Tracy was everything I could ever ask for in a ticklee. Young, gorgeous, impossibly ticklish, and best of all, willing. I wasn't sure I would ever want to stop torturing her.
"Tickle tickle tickle," I said methodically, like the tickling itself. There was nothing wild and intense about what I was doing. My fingers moved rapidly, but not in an attempt to reach a tickling pinnacle. Mine was to be a long term campaign, and thus my taunting reflected my 'slow and steady' technique.
The effects upon Tracy were exactly as I would have hoped. She could not for the life of her stop giggling and laughing, nor could she stop moving in an effort to escape my touch. But at no point did the tickling become more than she could stand. She stayed right on the edge, straddling that line between pleasure and agony.
My fingers continued to explore her torso. As I tickled a new spot, I announced it to her just prior. "Let's see if Tracy has ticklish boobies", and my fingers flew over and around her chest. "Oh look, a belly button!", and I wiggled my fingers around her tiny knot of flesh. "Better check these hips!", and dragged my nails along her sensuous curves. Tracy squealed in delight as each new ticklish spot was uncovered. By moving my fingers about and testing new areas, not only was I confirming her statement that she was one big tickle spot, but I was also giving each area time to resensitize. Of course, once each area had been properly rested, I returned to torture it anew.
Tracy was a babbling ball of ticklish goo. Tears had spilled from her eyes, but never once did I suspect that she wasn't fully enjoying herself. She had needed to experience a tickling of this intensity and duration, and I was only happy to fulfill that wish. When I (reluctantly) finally pulled my fingers away from her torso, and she was able to fully regain her breath and stop the incessant giggling, she flashed me a smile of such radiance that I fell in love with her yet again.
"That was incredible!" she cried, and for the first time I noticed the scent of her arousal. She thrust her head low so that she could kiss me again, to which of course I readily submitted.
"We're just getting started!" I announced as our lips parted. Tracy's eyes flashed with excitement at my words. I heard her breath catch in her throat as my feathers and I slipped around to the back of the podium where her bare feet helplessly awaited us. She was able to see bits and pieces of me past her own body in the reflection of the mirror, but I decided that it would be more fun if she couldn't see me at all. I knelt down behind the podium so that I was out of sight and at eye level with her delicious looking tootsies.
Tracy's toes curled reflexively, giving me a wonderful glimpse of that candy apple red polish upon her nails. Her ankles were locked securely in the fur lined holes of the stocks, so I knew they would be going nowhere. The soles of her feet were soft and creamy looking, and her toes were so tiny that the pad of each toe was just a little ball barely peeking over the edge of each foot. I had tickled feet in my life, but none so adorable as these.
"Now, which of these feet did you say was the most ticklish spot on the most ticklish person in the world?" Her only response was to wiggle her feet and giggle at herself in the mirror.
I fluttered my two stiff feathers down her both feet, from her heels to her toes. She squeaked and immediately set about flailing her feet. The feathers were broad enough that I only needed to repeat my motion again and again and be assured of tickling her feet no matter how much they flopped about. She giggled sweetly, confirming that indeed, her feet were the worst spots on her body. I can't imagine the feathers stimulated the sensitive nerve endings of her soles all that much, but she was giggling up a storm nonetheless.
I longed to see just how ticklish her feet were. Turning the feathers around, I lightly scratched at her soles with the sharp quill ends. Tracy managed to scream "Nooooooo!!!" before being rendered speechless again due to forced laughter. Her tiny feet protested with a vigor, and I happily noted that her entire body struggled in the apparatus. I could only imagine what sort of pleasure she got out of watching herself writhe.
"Tickle tickle tickle...ticklish lil feetsies." Tracy laughter intensified with my taunting, and I was amused to discover the effect my words had on her. Her feet danced around so much I was forced to subdue and tickle one at a time. For my part, I thought she was a liar; she screeched and guffawed equally at the torturing of either foot. The battle for the most ticklish spot on the most ticklish person on the planet ended in a tie with both her feet sharing top honors.
Tracy's feet were so ticklish that I feared I would not be able to hold her on that fine edge between ecstasy and anguish again. I had barely begun, and already she was borderline incoherent. She was unable to utter a single protest or beg a single word for mercy. All she could do was laugh and squirm.
I began to grow jealous of my feather. Why should it get to have all the fun?
Dropping the feather, I slowed the tickling down to dragging a single lazy finger nail up and down each sole, one at a time. As I hoped, Tracy was able to come down a bit from her delirium, but as I had not taken away the ticklish sensations completely, she was not yet free from her torture.
"Heeeeheeeheee...please....no more...no more....heeeheeee....heeee...please....haahaaa...please."
Ah yes, the begging. How I loved listening to her beg. Her girlish voice, so fraught with desperation. Her pleading, so genuine, yet so far from what she truthfully wanted that I had only once choice but to turn a dear ear to it. My finger danced slow figure eights up and down each petite foot, and I was rewarded with more and more visions of her lovely nail polish.
"Oh God...stop...haha...please...I can't take it...heeeheeeheeheee...enough...please....oh God..."
I said nothing, nor did I allow my finger to pause in it's winding ways. I used my one finger to explore the entirety of her feet, from her heels, to their outer edges, to the balls, to the ridges beneath her impossibly tiny toes, to the tips of those toes themselves. No spot remained untickled by that single finger, and no spot failed to be anything but ultra ticklish.
"Stop...Jesus...heehee...stop...not my heels...stop...oh God...hahahahaha...not there...please...heeheehee...no...NO...heeeheeehaaahaahaaa...Oh God...not my toes...not my toes...PLEASE....oh Jesus...heeeheeheeeheeheeeheehee....stopppp..."
In was in this manner that I kept her on that fine edge. Despite her protestations, I could hear in her voice just how much she was loving this. Her feet never stopped twitching under my devilish fingertip, and her body never stopped twisting in failed escape attempts. She remained helpless, unable to move, powerless to avoid the tickling of her feet, with absolutely no control over the situation or the reactions of her body. She was ecstatic with pleasure.
As much as I enjoyed keeping her on that edge, I needed more. The pungent scent of her sex filled the air, and it was driving me wild. I contemplated pulling out my manhood and bringing myself off right there, but as I was forcing her to endure the torture of my fingertips, I vowed to endure the torture of waiting.
Still, Tracy was not the only one fulfilling a fantasy here. I hoped that later she would forgive me for indulging myself, but what choice did I have? How often did a situation like this present itself? I would regret it to my grave if I didn't go to town on those pretty little feet of hers. And that's exactly what I did.
I brought my lips down and over three of her munchkin toes. My teeth scraped the ball of her foot and my tongue slithered into the tiny crevices between her toes that my finger had been unable to penetrate. Both my hands were on her foot as well, touching and exploring it lightly.
Tracy's squealed on long "AAAAAAIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!" at the first contact my mouth on her foot, and from that point she tittered and squeaked in ticklish delight.
My mouth moved from foot to foot. I was eager to taste each of her little toes. I sucked and pulled on each one with my teeth. I let her feel the sensation of my lips and tongue gliding along her soles. I nibbles on the edges of her feet, on the tips of her toes. I rubbed my goatee the length of each small foot, letting her feel the prickliness of each hair. Tracy gurgled with girlish laughter at all my ministrations.
Then, without a word of warning, I launched into a full scaled tickle attack on both her helpless soles. All ten of my fingers flew over the silky flesh of her feet, scrabbling and scratching and digging and dancing. Tracy howled in true agony as her brain overloaded with ticklish stimuli. For the first time, her struggles for escape were wild and frenzied. Her tittering giggling was replaced by tortured laughter that sounded eerie coming from one so small. I caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and she looked to be in terrible sorts. Tears cascaded down her rosy cheeks, and her hair flew about wildly as she fought like a madwoman for relief.
I put the haunting image of her face aside and focused on torturing her tiny feet. I was determined to make up for years and years of denial and heartbreak and longing and despair by tickling these feet for all they were worth. I blocked out the sounds of Tracy's demonic laughter. There was nothing but two helpless feet to tickle and a sense of glorious satisfaction within me that I had never known. I was in Nirvana, and nothing was going to stop me from living out my dream.
Then something odd happened. I what can only be described as an out of body experience, as I had a vision of standing beside myself, watching myself tickle Tracy. The look on my face was that of a man possessed, with no traces of rationality showing through. The vision turned to look at Tracy's reflection, and what it saw was the angel of my dreams being tickled to the point of lunacy.
I stopped tickling immediately. The vision had horrified me. I had succumbed to a need deep in my soul that I didn't know existed, and it had scared me. Quickly I rushed around to the front, to look her in the eyes and beg her forgiveness, but what I saw shocked me. Tracy was recovering from the nightmarish ordeal, and the smile she flashed at me was incredible!
"That was Hell!" she cried, bursting with excitement. From the look she was giving me, Hell is exactly where she'd always dreamed of visiting. I'd introduced her to the Devil inside me, and she'd come away like she'd been named Queen of the Prom.
"You're not mad?" I asked, already suspecting that I knew the answer.
"Mad? Hell no. I'm freaking horny though!" I laughed out of relief and shock. It was so like a petite princess like her to not swear even under the most dire of circumstances.
"Horny, eh? Let's see what I can do to help with that..."
Tracy eyes flashed with electricity. She leaned forward to kiss me again, but I nimbly stepped aside and plopped one of her nipples in my mouth. She arched into my lips as much as she could, and I heard a sigh of pleasure ripple through her. I then heard her breath catch in her throat, as in the mirror she saw the reflection of the feather I had retrieved being brought up between her thighs. A moment later, she felt the twirling plumage tickling her womanhood, while I rolled her nipple between my teeth. She shuddered in delight and simultaneously moaned and giggled at the same time.
The heat between her legs was fierce, and her wetness quickly made my feather useless. I gave her a quick wink before lowering my lips to her sex. She moaned loudly and huskily as my tongue found her engorged clitoris. There wasn't much room between her legs for my mouth, as the apparatus had not been designed for this, but there was enough for me to wedge my goatee in there nicely to feast on her. As I became quickly coated in her juices, I reached up and tickled my fingers along her ribs. That and the tickling of my goatee on her ultra sensitive inner thighs had her giggling and bouncing on my face. She was on the edge again, albeit an edge of a different kind. She was so keyed up, however, and I felt I had tormented her enough for one night, so climax was granted quickly to her. She groaned long and hard, and her body shuddered almost violently. I teased her love button for the duration of her orgasm, and her thighs clenched almost painfully against the sides of my face. Then it was over, and she slumped in her bonds, spent.
Quickly I set about freeing her from the apparatus. She was too weak to walk, too delirious to recognize me or her settings. I picked up her tiny frame in my arms, and gathering a candle as we exited, carried her down the hall to my bedroom. She lay slumped in my arms, barely coherent. I gently lay her on the bed and set the candle down before lying beside her. I was stroking her hair when the first signs of recognition returned to her eyes.
"How...how did I get here?"
"I carried you."
"Oh my God...what you did...what you gave me...was unbelievable!" The sparkle was returning to her eyes, and a smile crept upon her face.
I smiled in return. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. It sure was fun."
Her hand passed over my crotch, felt the rock hard bulge beneath, and began to unzip my fly. "We're just getting started," she said, echoing my words from earlier, as she leaned into to kiss me passionately.
*********
Tracy and I never did go out looking for help that night. She spent it with me, making incredible love and snuggling just as I'd pictured. As a matter of fact, she spent the rest of the weekend at the cabin with me, and we played with my bondage device all weekend long. Neither of us could get enough of the tickling. We stopped only long enough to eat, sleep, have sex, walk in the woods around the cabin while holding hands, and fall in love with each other for so many other reasons. When the weekend ended, Tracy came back to live with me. She filed for divorce right away, and we've been madly in love ever since. Now we go up to the cabin together every weekend, and each time it's better than the last.
Oh, and we are thinking of ordering another apparatus for the apartment as well. The weekends just take too damn long to get here.
(End of Part 2 of 2)
Out of the Rain (Part 2 of 2)
Tracy looked up at me in disbelief. In our innocent little game of cat and mouse, I had suddenly thrown down the gauntlet. She assumed I was bluffing. "You are pulling my leg, Jonathan, aren't you? There is no way you have a set of stocks here. You are full of it, right?" She searched my face, looking for evidence to support her doubts. My smiling countenance betrayed nothing.
"Follow me," I repeated, extending my hand to her.
She placed her small porcelain hand in mine, and I helped her to her feet. The large blanket fell to the floor, and the magazine in her lap fell to the cushions awkwardly, but neither of us acknowledged these things. We only had eyes for each other. I was drinking all of her petite form in, from her innocent angelic face with the sparkling eyes and tiny rosebud of a mouth, to the mane of wet curls that seemed wild and unkempt yet somehow shaped her face perfectly, to the way my oversized sweats hung limply from her shoulders but still managed to hint at the magnificence of a tiny figure hidden beneath, to her heavenly little white feet with the red toenail polish that I simply couldn't keep my eyes away from. Tracy seemed captivated with me as well, although her gaze never wavered from my eyes. The look from her eyes was both curious and knowing, if such a thing is possible. Her look suggested that she did not believe what was happening was actually happening, and if she only stared long enough into my eyes, the answers would all be revealed to her. At the same time, I could see in her eyes that she was fully aware of what was transpiring, and that knowledge both excited and terrified her. She looked like a person who was about to realize a long held fantasy after so many years of being resigned to the fact that it would never come to pass, and now that she was so close to fulfilling that fantasy, the reality of the situation threatened to overwhelm her. I could almost hear her heart thumping madly in her chest. She suddenly seemed surprisingly sober for one so little having consumed so much wine.
I led us by candlelight up the stairs that led to the cabin's second floor. As I had not previously lit any candles up there, our only light came from the one candle I held out before us. She gripped my hand tightly, perhaps out of fear or anticipation or maybe both. Her body pressed rather close to mine, and I could smell the fragrance of her hair and feel the warmth of her body. The bulge in my pants was practically screaming now. I fought the urge to hurry up the dark staircase.
At the second floor, I led her down the dark hallway, past the open door to my bedroom, which I silently suspected we'd find ourselves in before long, to the closed door of the spare bedroom at the end. I opened it and slowly swung it inward, and it responded by creaking loudly like the mouth of a tomb being uncovered. Tracy jumped and clung closer to me in such a way that I was not at all upset that I hadn't oiled the door's hinges in some time. Cold air washed over us, as the fire down below was not strong enough to have yet warmed this unused room.
We crept quietly into the dark interior. I did not move quickly as I was not all that familiar with this room in the darkness, and the light from our one candle only revealed so much. Finally I was able to locate more candle along the walls, and having lit them, the room in it's entirety was revealed to us.
While it was technically a spare bedroom, there was no spare bed to be found. Nor was there an armoire, a dresser, or furniture of any kind. What the room did contain was a large cloth covered object that was located in the center and took up much of the available space. Tracy looked at it wide-eyed.
"What's that?" she asked in a voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might disturb any ghosts that might inhabit this forgotten room.
"I'll show you," I said. The lack of decor and heat gave the room all the warmth of a meat locker, but cold and chilling was not the mood I was interested in for the game Tracy and I were about to play. Making like I was Lance Burton uncovering one of my spectacular magical surprises, I pulled back the cloth covering with a flourish and a triumphant air. The movement kicked up so much layered dust that both Tracy and I fell into squinting coughing fits for a few moments before we could look upon what was no longer hidden.
The object was a wooden construction of no apparent purpose, until one looked more closely at it. The base of the contraption was a square raised podium. Rising from the edges of the podium were two wooden poles, and attached to each pole was a fur-lined cuff that could be adjusted to different heights by means of pegs. Also rising from the podium, set back from the two poles about a foot or so, was a set of fur-lined ankle stocks, slightly elevated.
Tracy sucked in her breath and held it as she viewed the apparatus, for that's what it was. An apparatus designed for one unique purpose, which the two of us both knew quite well. I stood beside it like the proud owner of a shiny new automobile.
Tracy circled podium, touching the wood with her fingers, making sure it was real. "Where did you get this Jonathan?!" Her eyes held the wonderment of a child's on Christmas morning.
I should have expected the questions, but I was unprepared to answer. "Errrrr...ah...well...I ordered it...from a magazine...a long time ago..."
Tracy was moving past me, and took her hand off the wood long enough to rub it along my shoulders as she passed. I felt goose bumps break out at her touch. "It's magnificent!" she exclaimed. I noticed her pause as a thought entered her brain, and a dark cloud passed over her face. "Have you ever used it?" She was unable to keep the jealousy out of her girlish voice.
"Actually....no. It's just been sitting here....collecting dust."
Tracy immediately brightened. There was something very magical about her and I finding each other tonight, and the idea that I had previously enjoyed the pleasures of this bondage device with another woman was an unpleasant one. The evening would somehow be less special to her if she were not the first and only to ever be held captive in it's wooden clutches.
I took a moment to notice that the storm seemed to be lessening a bit outside, but I wasn't about to share this knowledge with Tracy. The last thing I needed was her deciding now was a good time to go driving in search of help.
Tracy stood on the far side of the apparatus, looking at me with those sparkling eyes. She said nothing, but her face lay on the verge of breaking out into nervous giggles.
"Would you like to try it?" I asked gently.
She bit her lip and nodded her head quickly. I motioned with my eyes for her to climb aboard the podium, but she remained unmoving. She smiled at me, closed her eyes for a few seconds, then looked to the ceiling. With a squinting of her eyes and a tiny little scream, she began with great haste to pull off her sweats. It was as if the courage was required for the act of undressing and not for being nude in front of me. In less than a few moments, she had removed both the sweatshirt and sweat pants and stood naked before me. She held her hands down by her sides, not trying to cover herself, but a delightful rose color crept up her neck and into her cheeks. She was still fighting back the nervous giggles.
My eyes grew wide as they washed over her petite frame. Tracy was tiny, less than 100 pounds I'd say, but she was incredibly well formed. Everything about her seemed small and delicate, from her graceful neck, to the narrow width of her shoulders and slender arms, to the poutiness of her perky breasts, to the smooth curve of her tiny waist, to her shapely hips and mouth watering legs, down to those precious little feet that I so adored. Her breasts were in proportion to the rest of her, but they were nicely rounded and ideally formed, with small dark nipples that I notice were already hardened with anticipation. Her flat belly was ornamented with a navel ring, and the tiniest patch of trimmed hair peeked out from between her legs. To coin an overused phrase, she was to die for. I would have loved her even if she did not share my fetish, so incredibly attracted to her I was.
Tracy embodied the best of all worlds. Her frailty radiated a girlish innocence that I found charming beyond belief. In a heartbeat, I could tell she was the type of girl I'd be racing home to introduce to the family. She'd be the life of the office Christmas party. She'd coo and gurgle over my every affection in such a way that I'd be tripping over myself to shower her with gifts and romantic gestures. She'd take my arm in public and I'd float along beside her, unable to believe my good fortune at having someone so heavenly by my side. At night she'd lay her head on my chest and wrap her little body around mine, and we'd sleep the sleep of the fulfilled and contented. I saw in Tracy everything I had ever wanted in a partner.
But that was only part of it. Her body was so perfect in every way that I lusted for her like I'd never lusted for a woman in my life. Sure, I could take her home to meet Mom, but once the bedroom door closed, the niceties would be over. She had a body that screamed to be enjoyed, a figure that demanded to be explored. She would quiver and tremble as my lover's touch caressed and worshipped the entirety of her body. She would respond like the primal animal she was as my touches became more aggressive, more erotic, more purposeful. She would writhe and moan as I stoked her fires and heightened her arousal by stimulating her erogenous zones. And she would shudder and wail with wild abandon as I pushed her to the point of climax and beyond. Normally, my sexual desires were in direct proportion to the amount of tickling involved in the act. With one look at Tracy, I needed no tickling to want to ravage her again and again. The bulge in my pants was growing painful.
Tracy caught my appreciative looks and was flattered to the point of beaming. While it was obvious that she was not entirely comfortable being naked in front of me, she was not ashamed of her body, and was pleased that I liked what I saw. If she only knew!
Without a word, she nimbly climbed onto the platform and knelt in position. I raised to the top of the stocks helped guide her ankles into the holes. Once in place, I lowered the top and locked the device. Her feet looked even tinier in their helpless predicament.
She was looking back over her shoulder, watching me work, holding onto the poles for support. As the wood closed down over her ankles, the nervous giggles involuntarily slipped out. She gave a little test pull on her ankles and found them to be completely immobile. I saw goose bumps break out over her arms, although whether that was from the chill in the room or the realization that her fantasy was starting to come true I didn't know.
I moved around to her front, where she was blushing furiously at me again. My eyes were basically at the height of her nipples, and she had to hold onto the poles to keep from falling forwards into me and smothering my face with them. I smiled a reassuring smile at her and took one of her small wrists in my hands. She did not resists as I placed it within the fur lined cuff, which I then raised as far as I felt was safe before pegging it into place. I repeated the motion with her other wrist, and soon she was hanging by her wrists. The cuffs did not allow her to hold onto the poles for support any longer, so her body weight pressed forward against her will, which brought her face closer to my own. Her eyes were twinkling with excitement, so I took advantage of her helpless situation to stand on my tip toes and press a kiss to her lips. She responded eagerly.
We disengaged from our kiss and I stood back to admire her. Her drying dark curls were falling across one shoulder and partially obscuring her face. Her chest was thrust out in my direction, as if begging to be touched. Her ribs showed nicely on either side, and her belly was as taut as a bowstring. And there was just enough space between the parting of her legs to give me thoughts of forgetting my intentions and ravaging her right there. Add to that the face of an angel, excitement and a hint of fear showing clearly across her features, and I was spellbound by the sight before me.
Tracy giggled at my dazed look. "You are silly, Jonathan." I couldn't get enough of hearing her say my name with that cute little voice of hers.
"You are incredible!" It was the only thing I could think of to say in return. It also happened to be the truth.
She giggled and blushed again. Oh how I loved the irony. She was eager enough to strip before me without my even asking, and adventurous enough to let me, practically a complete stranger, tie her up in such a revealing fashion, but she was still demure enough to be embarrassed by a simple compliment. She was simply too precious for words.
A little pout appeared on her lips. "What's the matter?" I asked, confused.
"I want to see!" She protested in a childlike fashion. She was referring to herself of course. After fantasizing for years about being tied, naked and helpless, and after seeing a magazine just a few minutes ago depicting attractive women bound and tickled, Tracy wanted to see what she looked like in the role of the victim. I couldn't blame her. I'd probably want to see what I looked like too.
"Hang on!" I said, sprinting from the room. In a flash I was back, holding the dressing mirror that normally stood in my bedroom. It was one of those long oval shaped free standing mirrors that could be tilted. I placed the full length reflective surface in front of her and stood to the side so she could see herself.
Tracy's eyes went wide as she looked upon herself, kneeling and naked, bound and exposed. She struggled a bit in the cuffs, just to see herself struggle, and wiggled her hips a little, just to see herself wiggle, and I could tell she liked what she saw. I know I did.
Satisfied with admiring herself, she once again looked to me, her anticipation growing. I grinned, knowing that the real game was about to begin. "Are you ready?" I asked.
Her answer surprised me. "Do I have a choice?"
"Nope!" I said, and we both giggled.
The podium that served as the base of the bondage device was hollowed out and served as a cabinet. I knelt before her and opened it. She looked down but could not see what I was doing, but there was no question in her eyes when I stood again, holding two stiff looking feathers.
I stood before her, twirling the feathers in my fingers and grinning. Her eyes moved rapidly from feather to feather, and her breathing quickened a bit. As I approached her, she startled me with a question. "Are you going to taunt me?"
"Taunt you?"
"Yeah. You know. Say those little silly things that make it worse?"
"Do you want me too?"
She thought for a moment. "Yeah. Why not. May as well go for broke here, right?"
"Right."
I reached up with my two long feathers and tickled down her arms from the cuffs to her elbows. I saw her break out in goose flesh at the very first touch, and already a mile wide smile was on her lips. "Most ticklish person on the planet, eh? We'll see about that."
She sputtered a little giggle at my words which she quickly stifled. The tips of my feathers were languishing in her inner elbows, and I her arms jerked to avoid them. Her gaze switched from watching the feathers in action to watching the reflection of herself being tickled in the mirror. I couldn't help but notice how hard her tiny nipples were, so close to my face.
She wanted taunting, so taunting I was determined to give her. "I sure hope those underarms of yours aren't ticklish. These feathers are awwwwwwfully close to them." I was now tickling her biceps and triceps with the plumes.
She was alternating between involuntary giggles and regaining her composure. I could tell that it was already a struggle for her, and I hadn't even approached any good spots yet. "N-n-nope! Not ticklish AIIIT all!" she managed to stammer out, nearly unable to finish her sentence.
I grinned at her. "Now now Tracy. I don't think you are telling me the truth. You wouldn't lie to me, would you?" The feathers were dangerously close to both her underarms now.
Tracy's efforts to remain poised was delightful to watch. Like anyone else who loves to tickle, the expressions and the struggling of the ticklee are the golden prizes we the ticklers so long for. It is the fuel that keeps us going. The motivation that makes us want to tickle again and again. Tracy's attempt to fight off the tickling sensations in her arms was priceless to my eyes. But unlike any tickling experience in my life, or even that of my fantasies, watching Tracy struggle was so much better than I ever could have imagined. Not only was I seeing exactly what I wanted to see, and hearing exactly what I wanted to hear, but it was the same if not more for her. She was in the situation she always wanted to be in. She was feeling those sensations that she'd dreamt and dreamt about. She was in every bit as much ecstasy as I was, and that's what made watching Tracy struggle so wonderful to me.
"N-n-no! N-nope! N-n-never!" Forming complex sentences was becoming too difficult between giggles.
"That's good, because if I found out that you were lying to me, you know I'd have to punish you, right?" My feathers 'accidentally' swept across the hollows of her underarms as I finished my question.
Tracy yelped and jumped in her kneeling position. The giggles poured forth, and she was beyond being able to bite them back any longer. Her giggling was like the sound of a tiny musical instrument to me. I could have listened to it for hours.
She hadn't yet answered my question, so I swept the feathers across the sensitive sweet spots under her arms yet again. "Riiiiight?" I coaxed. She yelped again and giggled more intensely, but managed to nod her head in agreement.
"So I'd better find out if you are telling the truth about these underarms." The feathers were once again circling the outer edges of her hollows. "Think I should give them a little test tickle and see?"
Tracy was watching the feathers teasingly circle her underarms in the mirror's reflection. A smile of delight was permanently etched upon her face, but I don't think she trusted her voice anymore. Once again biting back the giggles, she shook her head from side to side in response.
"No? Well, I think I will anyway." And with that, I dragged the stiffness of the feathers in tiny patterns around the center of her underarms.
Tracy squealed with girlish glee and threw her head back. A torrent of musical giggles erupted from her mouth which was stretched wide. She bounced in her bonds as much as the cuffs and stocks would allow. I laughed along with her, despite the painful bulge between my legs that had yet to be freed.
"Sure looks like they are ticklish to me, don't you think?" Tracy wasn't paying attention to my words. She was snapping her head back and forth, watching each wicked feather as I alternately tickled one underarm at a time. Her body swayed in the bonds like some kind of tortured dancer and she strained to avoid the tickling plumes. "Here, I'll prove it to you." I put the feathers in my teeth and briefly tickled both her underarms with my fingers. This fresh new torment had her squealing and bouncing again, and I saw the muscles in her arms struggling in vain to lower themselves for protection.
"Tsk tsk tsk...you lied to me Tracy." I was back to standing in front of her, twirling the feathers menacingly. I was giving her a moment to catch her breath. Between giggles, she tried to look apologetic. She did her best to give me puppy dog eyes, which was not easy because she still wanted to giggle.
"I'm sorry," she whispered in baby talk, so that it sounded like "I'm sowwee". She was having too much fun though, and began to giggle again in spite of herself.
"Sorry won't cut it I'm afraid. I'm going to have to punish you." I was no better at being believable in my 'angry' role, as I couldn't stop smiling and beaming at her.
A look of mock fear came across her face. She caught sight of it in the mirror though, and broke herself up laughing before trying to make it again. "What are you going to do to me?" she whispered softly. As if we both didn't already know. Her smile was not to be denied, as she was unable to sustain her look of fear, despite her best efforts.
"I could stretch you." Tracy "oooooh'd" with wide eyes.
"Or I could spank you." Tracy "ahhhhh'd", and wiggled her bottom as if the prospect wasn't entirely unappealing.
"Or I could make you walk barefoot across hot coals!" Tracy squeaked in mock fright.
"But I think I'll just TICKLE YOU!" I dropped both feathers and attacked her helpless rib cage on both sides.
Tracy exploded again in ticklish ecstasy. Her petite body shook with delight as the laughter sprang forth from her throat. Her bouncing made her perky breasts jiggle prettily, and her hair became mussed with the thrashing of her head. I couldn't get over the softness of her skin, or the vibrations just below the surface that rippled at my every touch. I played her ribs like a grand piano, not having to dig in to reduce her to ticklish jelly. My finger tips flew over the keys, flicking them just enough to produce a wonderful melody of giggles and squeals from Tracy. At the top of this human instrument, I made sure to remind her that her underarms were indeed ticklish. She twisted and pulled in her bonds, but remained stretched just enough to allow my fingertips to glide over her porcelain skin.
It was torture for her, but a welcomed torture that she couldn't get enough of. My intent was neither to push her over the edge nor to grant her any mercy. I would keep her in the ticklish stitches in which she was now held. Unbearable enough to produce unabated laughter and warrant a fierce struggle for escape, but pleasurable enough that I could continue on and on without her ever growing tired of the contest.
I was in Heaven. Tracy was everything I could ever ask for in a ticklee. Young, gorgeous, impossibly ticklish, and best of all, willing. I wasn't sure I would ever want to stop torturing her.
"Tickle tickle tickle," I said methodically, like the tickling itself. There was nothing wild and intense about what I was doing. My fingers moved rapidly, but not in an attempt to reach a tickling pinnacle. Mine was to be a long term campaign, and thus my taunting reflected my 'slow and steady' technique.
The effects upon Tracy were exactly as I would have hoped. She could not for the life of her stop giggling and laughing, nor could she stop moving in an effort to escape my touch. But at no point did the tickling become more than she could stand. She stayed right on the edge, straddling that line between pleasure and agony.
My fingers continued to explore her torso. As I tickled a new spot, I announced it to her just prior. "Let's see if Tracy has ticklish boobies", and my fingers flew over and around her chest. "Oh look, a belly button!", and I wiggled my fingers around her tiny knot of flesh. "Better check these hips!", and dragged my nails along her sensuous curves. Tracy squealed in delight as each new ticklish spot was uncovered. By moving my fingers about and testing new areas, not only was I confirming her statement that she was one big tickle spot, but I was also giving each area time to resensitize. Of course, once each area had been properly rested, I returned to torture it anew.
Tracy was a babbling ball of ticklish goo. Tears had spilled from her eyes, but never once did I suspect that she wasn't fully enjoying herself. She had needed to experience a tickling of this intensity and duration, and I was only happy to fulfill that wish. When I (reluctantly) finally pulled my fingers away from her torso, and she was able to fully regain her breath and stop the incessant giggling, she flashed me a smile of such radiance that I fell in love with her yet again.
"That was incredible!" she cried, and for the first time I noticed the scent of her arousal. She thrust her head low so that she could kiss me again, to which of course I readily submitted.
"We're just getting started!" I announced as our lips parted. Tracy's eyes flashed with excitement at my words. I heard her breath catch in her throat as my feathers and I slipped around to the back of the podium where her bare feet helplessly awaited us. She was able to see bits and pieces of me past her own body in the reflection of the mirror, but I decided that it would be more fun if she couldn't see me at all. I knelt down behind the podium so that I was out of sight and at eye level with her delicious looking tootsies.
Tracy's toes curled reflexively, giving me a wonderful glimpse of that candy apple red polish upon her nails. Her ankles were locked securely in the fur lined holes of the stocks, so I knew they would be going nowhere. The soles of her feet were soft and creamy looking, and her toes were so tiny that the pad of each toe was just a little ball barely peeking over the edge of each foot. I had tickled feet in my life, but none so adorable as these.
"Now, which of these feet did you say was the most ticklish spot on the most ticklish person in the world?" Her only response was to wiggle her feet and giggle at herself in the mirror.
I fluttered my two stiff feathers down her both feet, from her heels to her toes. She squeaked and immediately set about flailing her feet. The feathers were broad enough that I only needed to repeat my motion again and again and be assured of tickling her feet no matter how much they flopped about. She giggled sweetly, confirming that indeed, her feet were the worst spots on her body. I can't imagine the feathers stimulated the sensitive nerve endings of her soles all that much, but she was giggling up a storm nonetheless.
I longed to see just how ticklish her feet were. Turning the feathers around, I lightly scratched at her soles with the sharp quill ends. Tracy managed to scream "Nooooooo!!!" before being rendered speechless again due to forced laughter. Her tiny feet protested with a vigor, and I happily noted that her entire body struggled in the apparatus. I could only imagine what sort of pleasure she got out of watching herself writhe.
"Tickle tickle tickle...ticklish lil feetsies." Tracy laughter intensified with my taunting, and I was amused to discover the effect my words had on her. Her feet danced around so much I was forced to subdue and tickle one at a time. For my part, I thought she was a liar; she screeched and guffawed equally at the torturing of either foot. The battle for the most ticklish spot on the most ticklish person on the planet ended in a tie with both her feet sharing top honors.
Tracy's feet were so ticklish that I feared I would not be able to hold her on that fine edge between ecstasy and anguish again. I had barely begun, and already she was borderline incoherent. She was unable to utter a single protest or beg a single word for mercy. All she could do was laugh and squirm.
I began to grow jealous of my feather. Why should it get to have all the fun?
Dropping the feather, I slowed the tickling down to dragging a single lazy finger nail up and down each sole, one at a time. As I hoped, Tracy was able to come down a bit from her delirium, but as I had not taken away the ticklish sensations completely, she was not yet free from her torture.
"Heeeeheeeheee...please....no more...no more....heeeheeee....heeee...please....haahaaa...please."
Ah yes, the begging. How I loved listening to her beg. Her girlish voice, so fraught with desperation. Her pleading, so genuine, yet so far from what she truthfully wanted that I had only once choice but to turn a dear ear to it. My finger danced slow figure eights up and down each petite foot, and I was rewarded with more and more visions of her lovely nail polish.
"Oh God...stop...haha...please...I can't take it...heeeheeeheeheee...enough...please....oh God..."
I said nothing, nor did I allow my finger to pause in it's winding ways. I used my one finger to explore the entirety of her feet, from her heels, to their outer edges, to the balls, to the ridges beneath her impossibly tiny toes, to the tips of those toes themselves. No spot remained untickled by that single finger, and no spot failed to be anything but ultra ticklish.
"Stop...Jesus...heehee...stop...not my heels...stop...oh God...hahahahaha...not there...please...heeheehee...no...NO...heeeheeehaaahaahaaa...Oh God...not my toes...not my toes...PLEASE....oh Jesus...heeeheeheeeheeheeeheehee....stopppp..."
In was in this manner that I kept her on that fine edge. Despite her protestations, I could hear in her voice just how much she was loving this. Her feet never stopped twitching under my devilish fingertip, and her body never stopped twisting in failed escape attempts. She remained helpless, unable to move, powerless to avoid the tickling of her feet, with absolutely no control over the situation or the reactions of her body. She was ecstatic with pleasure.
As much as I enjoyed keeping her on that edge, I needed more. The pungent scent of her sex filled the air, and it was driving me wild. I contemplated pulling out my manhood and bringing myself off right there, but as I was forcing her to endure the torture of my fingertips, I vowed to endure the torture of waiting.
Still, Tracy was not the only one fulfilling a fantasy here. I hoped that later she would forgive me for indulging myself, but what choice did I have? How often did a situation like this present itself? I would regret it to my grave if I didn't go to town on those pretty little feet of hers. And that's exactly what I did.
I brought my lips down and over three of her munchkin toes. My teeth scraped the ball of her foot and my tongue slithered into the tiny crevices between her toes that my finger had been unable to penetrate. Both my hands were on her foot as well, touching and exploring it lightly.
Tracy's squealed on long "AAAAAAIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!" at the first contact my mouth on her foot, and from that point she tittered and squeaked in ticklish delight.
My mouth moved from foot to foot. I was eager to taste each of her little toes. I sucked and pulled on each one with my teeth. I let her feel the sensation of my lips and tongue gliding along her soles. I nibbles on the edges of her feet, on the tips of her toes. I rubbed my goatee the length of each small foot, letting her feel the prickliness of each hair. Tracy gurgled with girlish laughter at all my ministrations.
Then, without a word of warning, I launched into a full scaled tickle attack on both her helpless soles. All ten of my fingers flew over the silky flesh of her feet, scrabbling and scratching and digging and dancing. Tracy howled in true agony as her brain overloaded with ticklish stimuli. For the first time, her struggles for escape were wild and frenzied. Her tittering giggling was replaced by tortured laughter that sounded eerie coming from one so small. I caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and she looked to be in terrible sorts. Tears cascaded down her rosy cheeks, and her hair flew about wildly as she fought like a madwoman for relief.
I put the haunting image of her face aside and focused on torturing her tiny feet. I was determined to make up for years and years of denial and heartbreak and longing and despair by tickling these feet for all they were worth. I blocked out the sounds of Tracy's demonic laughter. There was nothing but two helpless feet to tickle and a sense of glorious satisfaction within me that I had never known. I was in Nirvana, and nothing was going to stop me from living out my dream.
Then something odd happened. I what can only be described as an out of body experience, as I had a vision of standing beside myself, watching myself tickle Tracy. The look on my face was that of a man possessed, with no traces of rationality showing through. The vision turned to look at Tracy's reflection, and what it saw was the angel of my dreams being tickled to the point of lunacy.
I stopped tickling immediately. The vision had horrified me. I had succumbed to a need deep in my soul that I didn't know existed, and it had scared me. Quickly I rushed around to the front, to look her in the eyes and beg her forgiveness, but what I saw shocked me. Tracy was recovering from the nightmarish ordeal, and the smile she flashed at me was incredible!
"That was Hell!" she cried, bursting with excitement. From the look she was giving me, Hell is exactly where she'd always dreamed of visiting. I'd introduced her to the Devil inside me, and she'd come away like she'd been named Queen of the Prom.
"You're not mad?" I asked, already suspecting that I knew the answer.
"Mad? Hell no. I'm freaking horny though!" I laughed out of relief and shock. It was so like a petite princess like her to not swear even under the most dire of circumstances.
"Horny, eh? Let's see what I can do to help with that..."
Tracy eyes flashed with electricity. She leaned forward to kiss me again, but I nimbly stepped aside and plopped one of her nipples in my mouth. She arched into my lips as much as she could, and I heard a sigh of pleasure ripple through her. I then heard her breath catch in her throat, as in the mirror she saw the reflection of the feather I had retrieved being brought up between her thighs. A moment later, she felt the twirling plumage tickling her womanhood, while I rolled her nipple between my teeth. She shuddered in delight and simultaneously moaned and giggled at the same time.
The heat between her legs was fierce, and her wetness quickly made my feather useless. I gave her a quick wink before lowering my lips to her sex. She moaned loudly and huskily as my tongue found her engorged clitoris. There wasn't much room between her legs for my mouth, as the apparatus had not been designed for this, but there was enough for me to wedge my goatee in there nicely to feast on her. As I became quickly coated in her juices, I reached up and tickled my fingers along her ribs. That and the tickling of my goatee on her ultra sensitive inner thighs had her giggling and bouncing on my face. She was on the edge again, albeit an edge of a different kind. She was so keyed up, however, and I felt I had tormented her enough for one night, so climax was granted quickly to her. She groaned long and hard, and her body shuddered almost violently. I teased her love button for the duration of her orgasm, and her thighs clenched almost painfully against the sides of my face. Then it was over, and she slumped in her bonds, spent.
Quickly I set about freeing her from the apparatus. She was too weak to walk, too delirious to recognize me or her settings. I picked up her tiny frame in my arms, and gathering a candle as we exited, carried her down the hall to my bedroom. She lay slumped in my arms, barely coherent. I gently lay her on the bed and set the candle down before lying beside her. I was stroking her hair when the first signs of recognition returned to her eyes.
"How...how did I get here?"
"I carried you."
"Oh my God...what you did...what you gave me...was unbelievable!" The sparkle was returning to her eyes, and a smile crept upon her face.
I smiled in return. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. It sure was fun."
Her hand passed over my crotch, felt the rock hard bulge beneath, and began to unzip my fly. "We're just getting started," she said, echoing my words from earlier, as she leaned into to kiss me passionately.
*********
Tracy and I never did go out looking for help that night. She spent it with me, making incredible love and snuggling just as I'd pictured. As a matter of fact, she spent the rest of the weekend at the cabin with me, and we played with my bondage device all weekend long. Neither of us could get enough of the tickling. We stopped only long enough to eat, sleep, have sex, walk in the woods around the cabin while holding hands, and fall in love with each other for so many other reasons. When the weekend ended, Tracy came back to live with me. She filed for divorce right away, and we've been madly in love ever since. Now we go up to the cabin together every weekend, and each time it's better than the last.
Oh, and we are thinking of ordering another apparatus for the apartment as well. The weekends just take too damn long to get here.
(End of Part 2 of 2)
