maryallison
TMF Novice
- Joined
- Feb 22, 2006
- Messages
- 74
- Points
- 0
My hands were straight above my head, but the straps were tied to a bungee cord, so I could tug my arms down a bit and take a step in any direction. The blonde guy had locked the door. The brunette was somewhere behind me.
"Get the lights, Mark," he said to the blonde.
"No!" I blurted.
"Maybe she's right," Mark said. "I want to see what we're doing."
The brunette hesitated. "No, I think she'll enjoy it more in the dark."
Mark smiled, and reached behind him.
Click.
The glow of the table lamp behind me crept across the room, so I could barely see corners and the outline of the closed door. Mark and the brunette were shadows.
A single finger grazed down my spine, as if it were running down my forearm, and it was so soft that i barely noticed it, and didn't react. It came up my spine again, then down, roaming to the left and right just a little - like a skier going down a hill - but I said nothing and would not move. It didn't bother me. It didn't bother me. Let me go, I thought.
Now two fingers came up my spine. They were so close together that it must have been the brunette's forefinger and middle finger, tracing a peace sign up my back. Nothing. Let me go. They moved to my right shoulder, then back to me spine, and then the left shoulder, and back, brushing against the back of my ribs then to the fleshy part just below my underarms, and now a third finger joined the hunt. They were like a pack of wolves chasing an elusive rabbit. It doesn't bother me. Up again, past my shoulders to the bottom of my haircut - the one I had shortened just yesterday! - until fingers brushed my hair to the left and right, across my skin, so my own body was ready to betray me. Let me go. I will not budge.
Mark, the blonde, stepped in front of me. He did not touch me, and merely glanced over my shoulder to my gentle tormentor.
"Not yet, man."
The hidden brunette trailed a finger up my left arm, to my elbow and back down again, then send another finger up my right arm, but Mark just glanced at me and shook his head.
"Paul, do both."
Now the brunette's fingers went up both arms, up and down in unison, then the left slightly sooner than the right, so one reached the top just as another was descending, and still I would not crack. Let me go. You have failed.
A finger brushed the back of my neck, and I flinched.
Mark smiled. "Got her."
Pauls' fingers now attacked my neck. brushing hair and fingertips way too quickly, and it was so irritating that I frowned, and Mark shook his head. The fingers went slower, then slower still, and the tiniest flinch gave away my weakest spot, and soon that finger found it again, and I flinched, and dammit it came back and i had no choice but to gasp - just a little.
Now Mark's finger found brushed my thigh. I flinched again. The finger trailed up the inside of one thigh, down the my knee for a moment but soon so agonizingly slow up and up and almost there and then down again, and now two fingers, and now three, and now the other hand with one finger and two up the other thigh, the same as before, out of unison so one hand came closer to my panties while another started its slow descent. Paul was still behind me, but his hands had grown bored and was searching for a fresher target. Down my spine, across the rim of my panties, down the back of my thighs and now up again. Oh God stay at my spine and don't go east or west.
I stood on tip toe to escape Mark in front of me, but somehow that extra two inches did not persuade him to stop, and a quick flicker of a Paul's finger on my extended foot made me plant them firm to the ground again - and just as I did one of Mark's fingers had been at the top of its pattern, so I send my own panties firmly into his finger. They did not stay. I tip toed again, but Paul quickly reached down and flickered three digits across the bottom of my foot and i had to put my heel flat again - just as Mark's other finger had reached its apex. I stepped to the left, but that only made Paul's spine finger graze against my side, and I gasped, and he took the bait and sent both sets of fingers to my sides, ever so softly. My poor poor ribs. I cannot protect them. It might have been better if the guys just dug their fingers in, but that would be too easy, too quick, so they made me gasp and flinch several minutes more as their fingers slowly slowly ever so goddamn slowly caressed my ribs and thighs.
Mark suddenly stepped away from in front of me. He disappeared. I heard the desk drawer open (why had I not looked in the desk drawer?) and close again, and Paul stopped his tracing and simply rested his hands on both sides of my tummy. There was a pause.
All this time the guys had not touched my breasts, almost like gentlemen not wanting to impose, but since they had touched evrything else my body had been desensitized a little - except my poor little titties. A simple feather duster came from behind me, and it sent a thousand tiny ribbons of sensetion through my body, back and forth, and I gasped and stood tip toe again, and took a step against the constraints of the bungee cord above me, but that only exposed every terribly ticklish part of my chest to the merciless feathers.
"Oh, God! Stop it, stop it please!"
"You read the sign..." Mark said.
"I'm sorry, I'm really really sorry. I won't come in here again."
"Well, too late." Paul said as he stepped away. The feathers danced across my tender flesh and I could barely breathe, but then I saw Paul at the closed and locked door. I heard the sound of footsteps come up the stairs. Paul turned to me.
"Would you like us to stop?" he asked. His fingers rested against the lock.
I knew what he was thinking.
"N-n-noo." I whispered.
The feather duster then fell across my tummy to my thighs, where it ever so conveniently got caught between my legs, and the more I wriggled to get free the more a feather brushed against my panties. Oh Stop. Oh please stop now.
"Stop it!" Stop!" I shouted.
Paul turned his fingers against the lock, and I heard it click, and he looked up at me again. I nodded. His hand curled around the doorknob, and I closed my eyes as I heard the door creak open.
"Get the lights, Mark," he said to the blonde.
"No!" I blurted.
"Maybe she's right," Mark said. "I want to see what we're doing."
The brunette hesitated. "No, I think she'll enjoy it more in the dark."
Mark smiled, and reached behind him.
Click.
The glow of the table lamp behind me crept across the room, so I could barely see corners and the outline of the closed door. Mark and the brunette were shadows.
A single finger grazed down my spine, as if it were running down my forearm, and it was so soft that i barely noticed it, and didn't react. It came up my spine again, then down, roaming to the left and right just a little - like a skier going down a hill - but I said nothing and would not move. It didn't bother me. It didn't bother me. Let me go, I thought.
Now two fingers came up my spine. They were so close together that it must have been the brunette's forefinger and middle finger, tracing a peace sign up my back. Nothing. Let me go. They moved to my right shoulder, then back to me spine, and then the left shoulder, and back, brushing against the back of my ribs then to the fleshy part just below my underarms, and now a third finger joined the hunt. They were like a pack of wolves chasing an elusive rabbit. It doesn't bother me. Up again, past my shoulders to the bottom of my haircut - the one I had shortened just yesterday! - until fingers brushed my hair to the left and right, across my skin, so my own body was ready to betray me. Let me go. I will not budge.
Mark, the blonde, stepped in front of me. He did not touch me, and merely glanced over my shoulder to my gentle tormentor.
"Not yet, man."
The hidden brunette trailed a finger up my left arm, to my elbow and back down again, then send another finger up my right arm, but Mark just glanced at me and shook his head.
"Paul, do both."
Now the brunette's fingers went up both arms, up and down in unison, then the left slightly sooner than the right, so one reached the top just as another was descending, and still I would not crack. Let me go. You have failed.
A finger brushed the back of my neck, and I flinched.
Mark smiled. "Got her."
Pauls' fingers now attacked my neck. brushing hair and fingertips way too quickly, and it was so irritating that I frowned, and Mark shook his head. The fingers went slower, then slower still, and the tiniest flinch gave away my weakest spot, and soon that finger found it again, and I flinched, and dammit it came back and i had no choice but to gasp - just a little.
Now Mark's finger found brushed my thigh. I flinched again. The finger trailed up the inside of one thigh, down the my knee for a moment but soon so agonizingly slow up and up and almost there and then down again, and now two fingers, and now three, and now the other hand with one finger and two up the other thigh, the same as before, out of unison so one hand came closer to my panties while another started its slow descent. Paul was still behind me, but his hands had grown bored and was searching for a fresher target. Down my spine, across the rim of my panties, down the back of my thighs and now up again. Oh God stay at my spine and don't go east or west.
I stood on tip toe to escape Mark in front of me, but somehow that extra two inches did not persuade him to stop, and a quick flicker of a Paul's finger on my extended foot made me plant them firm to the ground again - and just as I did one of Mark's fingers had been at the top of its pattern, so I send my own panties firmly into his finger. They did not stay. I tip toed again, but Paul quickly reached down and flickered three digits across the bottom of my foot and i had to put my heel flat again - just as Mark's other finger had reached its apex. I stepped to the left, but that only made Paul's spine finger graze against my side, and I gasped, and he took the bait and sent both sets of fingers to my sides, ever so softly. My poor poor ribs. I cannot protect them. It might have been better if the guys just dug their fingers in, but that would be too easy, too quick, so they made me gasp and flinch several minutes more as their fingers slowly slowly ever so goddamn slowly caressed my ribs and thighs.
Mark suddenly stepped away from in front of me. He disappeared. I heard the desk drawer open (why had I not looked in the desk drawer?) and close again, and Paul stopped his tracing and simply rested his hands on both sides of my tummy. There was a pause.
All this time the guys had not touched my breasts, almost like gentlemen not wanting to impose, but since they had touched evrything else my body had been desensitized a little - except my poor little titties. A simple feather duster came from behind me, and it sent a thousand tiny ribbons of sensetion through my body, back and forth, and I gasped and stood tip toe again, and took a step against the constraints of the bungee cord above me, but that only exposed every terribly ticklish part of my chest to the merciless feathers.
"Oh, God! Stop it, stop it please!"
"You read the sign..." Mark said.
"I'm sorry, I'm really really sorry. I won't come in here again."
"Well, too late." Paul said as he stepped away. The feathers danced across my tender flesh and I could barely breathe, but then I saw Paul at the closed and locked door. I heard the sound of footsteps come up the stairs. Paul turned to me.
"Would you like us to stop?" he asked. His fingers rested against the lock.
I knew what he was thinking.
"N-n-noo." I whispered.
The feather duster then fell across my tummy to my thighs, where it ever so conveniently got caught between my legs, and the more I wriggled to get free the more a feather brushed against my panties. Oh Stop. Oh please stop now.
"Stop it!" Stop!" I shouted.
Paul turned his fingers against the lock, and I heard it click, and he looked up at me again. I nodded. His hand curled around the doorknob, and I closed my eyes as I heard the door creak open.
