I’m The Boss
I work for an agency that I nicknamed “The Pimp”. When I feel like working, I go in and hang out for the evening. Some nights are slow. Like this night. When a caller wanted to know if we would cater to his tickling fetish, “The Pimp” had never had a call like that before. The caller explained that he was in town on business and wanted to tickle a girl with light bondage. He was not a regular customer. So, Emily talked with him on the phone for a while about his needs. He gave her a phone number to reach him. We discussed the caller. The other girls weren’t into doing the tickling and bondage thing for $200. I was open to the idea, but wanted $500. For one hour. When Emily called the man back, he agreed to the steep price because “The Pimp” was the only game in town. Five hundred dollars to be tied and tickled for an hour. No problem. I have been tickled occasionally in my life. I was feeling no doubt that this would be a piece of cake. I went over to his hotel, found the room, and knocked on the door.
“Hi, I’m Helena from ‘The Pimp’. Nice to meet you.”
“Hello, please come in.”
He let me into his hotel room. He was wearing jeans and a black tee shirt. I expected him to faint at the sight of my beauty, or be nervous about such a strange fetish. Instead, he walked right passed me, and went to lie down on the bed. He had four restraints already set up on the bed waiting for us to use. He was ready for some tickling action. He looked so at home lying on the bed, which he had already turned down, that I wanted to smack him because suddenly I was a bundle of nerves.
“Leave your clothes over there on the table, and then come and lie on the bed with me.”
“In your fucking dreams. You asked the agency to send you a girl for tickling fetish play. Well, here I am. If you want me to get completely naked for sex, that’s going to cost extra. Oh, and I want the money up front. You can get up, and leave that on the table.”
“Well, I want you to take off all your clothes and lie your naked ass on this bed so I can tickle you. I’m paying for your service, and you are on the clock.”
“Excuse me. We are still negotiating things. And until we come to an agreement, there is no clock. It‘s five bills for the bondage tickling and $100 for sex.”
“You will enjoy being tickled so much, that you will beg for sex.”
I have never begged for anything in my entire life, and I have never begged a client to fuck me. Ever. But if he wanted me to beg, and he was paying me, I might do it. At his request. If he insisted.
He sat back on the bed after placing the money on the desk. There were six 100 dollar bills. I hadn’t really given much sweat to his fetish at all. It seemed pretty tame. I’d been tickled in my life. What was the big deal? In my mind, I was deciding how I would spend my green on the planet Shopping Spree, but he interrupted my thoughts.
“Tonight, I declare you the Empress in my Realm Of Good Decisions.” Oh, I love it when men compliment my body, or say sweet nothings to me right before they come in the back of some room at a function. But to be called an empress, that was a first. He said those words like his statement was just the plain and simple truth. “Now you will follow my instructions, and do exactly what I say without talking. Nod your head if you understand.” I nodded. Let the games begin with the bondage tickler.
“Pay attention. I’m the boss of you now. Take your clothes off where you stand. Take off the top first. And then work your way down.”
Whatever, buddy. I took off my top and put it on the dresser neatly. He gave me an approving look. Apparently, he liked my lacy black bra, because when I reached up to remove it he said, “Keep it on.” After I slid out of my skirt, I was about to remove my sandals and panties, but he stopped me.
“That’s enough. Now come over here and lie down in the middle of the bed. I will take care of stripping you later…right now the bra, panties and shoes will be fine. Have you ever been tied and tickled before?”
“Not professionally. This is a first.”
“Before I tie you, let me tickle you for a few minutes while you just lie here. Then we will see how things go. If at any time you want me to stop, just say, ‘You’re The Boss’ alright?”
I rolled my eyes. “Alright, I understand.”
Without any warning, he opened my thighs and blew raspberries on one and then the other. At first they were light, and then they got a little more intense. He nibbled around my knees with his mouth, and that’s when I squealed. He went to my other knee and repeated the same thing. During the second knee nibble, I squealed again, only it was a bit louder because I knew what it would feel like the second time. Anticipation sucks.
“Oh, you’ve got ticklish legs! Get ready.” He ran his fingers up and down the front of one leg and then the other allowing me to roll around and laugh. When he nibbled my ankles though, I pulled both of my legs away from him.
“It tickles. Holy Christ.”
“Is your belly ticklish? I bet it is.” I knew it wasn’t, but hey, for six hundred dollars, I could fake it. Oh, yes, I had done it plenty of times before. “Just try to relax while I test it.” With the absolute lightest touch on my skin, he moved all 10 of his fingers from the center of my belly button to the sides of my ribs. It gave me such goose bumps, and I laughed. He came back to my belly button and stuck his tongue in it. He tickled from my belly button to the tops of my panties, and then scribbled across my lower belly with both hands. He made me shriek, and I reached down to stop him.
"I think it’s time to take off your shoes and tickle your feet." I bolted into a sitting position. I had been relatively calm when he started on my thighs, but with each new thing he added, I was slowly losing control. “Wait! I’ll just tell you. They are ticklish. You don’t need to test them.”
“I do need to test them. Will you lie back down? I’m just playing right now to get to know you. Relax. Of course, just tell me “You’re The Boss” and we can end this now. Maybe you aren’t cut out for tickling. Not everyone is. Am I The Boss?” I looked at him defiantly. “Ok, then, lie back down, and let me have your feet.”
Off came my silver cute sandals. In the blink of an eye they were stripped from me. He used his hands to rub my feet for a few moments and pull my toes back a few times. He told me to spread my toes and point them. He tickled only the tops of my feet and my toes with touches that I can’t describe. I tried to hold still, and I did well for about 5 seconds before sitting up and pulling my feet away, which he permitted. It seems from the time he began exploring me until now, I realized that he could really tickle me well. So anticipating each new part of my body about to be touched was agonizing.
“My wish is to tie you spread eagle on this bed, while you lie on your back, and tickle you silly. Is that something you would be willing to do? How brave are you feeling? It won’t hurt, but you will laugh hysterically. I’m a little sadistic when I discover a really ticklish spot.” Always up for a challenge, I agreed to do it. The cuffs were all ready for me and he restrained one arm at a time, stretching me a little so my tummy was nice and taut. He restrained each leg so that my feet were apart and immobilized.
He presented a comb. Down to the bottoms of my feet…how did I know he would go there? Just a hunch. Without saying anything, he began lightly running the points of the comb back and forth like he was sawing a board. He began gently. I was giggling and discovering how helpless he had made me when I tried to sit up. He worked on one foot at a time sawing back and forth. It sent electric shocks to my lower belly.
“Oh my god, not there!” It was mean, and complete, and unyielding. It made me horny in a way I didn’t expect. The comb was unstoppable. My foot belonged to him now. He brought the comb up right under my toes and lightly worked it back and forth. And then he changed the direction he was combing my feet from side to side to up and down. He was making me focus solely on that comb and all my nerve endings.
“It tortures me, please stop. Not that foot anymore!” I had been laughing and shrieking and giggling with my mouth wide open for what seemed like forever.
“Ok, not that foot anymore. I want your tummy.”
I looked down at my poor tummy. I was stretched out nicely, and I was so vulnerable. “Oh, I’m going to tease that little tummy.” He seemed awfully sure of himself, but I was so relieved to be rid of the dreadful comb, I welcomed a new torture. He began to gently massage my belly with his fingers making little circles with different fingers. In certain places, it was worse than others, but the touches so far weren’t that horrible.
When he began stroking my sides, everything changed. He tickled me from my hips to right underneath my armpit on both sides simultaneously. He varied his touches so I couldn’t predict where he would tickle next. I closed my eyes to try and make the sensations stop. I let out lots of screams, and shrieks, and cries for mercy. But I giggled helplessly and couldn’t stop.
He teased me. “I don’t think you want me to stop. Tell me you love it. I know you do. I’m a really good tickler, and I know you love it.” He blew raspberries on my ribs and began to nibble them. “Ask me what I want for dinner. Go on. Ask me what I want for dinner.” I couldn’t answer. I was breathless and giggly, and I had lost control of my body. “I’m having your ribs for dinner!” I couldn’t respond in words or put any thoughts together as he nibbled my sides. I was truly at his mercy. I could no longer resist him. He lifted his fingers and mouth off my belly and I have never been more grateful in my entire life to have a sensation cease. I took a breathe and was just a giggly mess.
He walked over to the mini fridge and got us both waters. He freed my arms so I could sit up and drink from the bottle, but I was tired from being harshly tickled into a frenzy of giggles, and I couldn’t sit up. He gave me a few minutes to gather my strength and helped me sit up and drink. Oh, the water was fantastic, and for the first time, I noticed I was really sweaty.
“Tell me what your favorite is…do you love the rib tickling or the foot combing more? No answer? Come on, I must know what you prefer. I know, it’s the foot combing, isn’t it? That’s great, because it’s my favorite too. You, my dear, are mine for another 15 minutes.”
He took the water from me and laid me down. He retied my hands. No particular thoughts entered my mind. I felt high.
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Isabeau, 
More, more! You owe us another 15 minutes! 
Hello MrPartickler, 
Hello Tickling_Bully, 
