milagros317
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The Sorority (part two)
This is an F/m story. If you don't like that, don't read it.
All characters in this story are 18 years old or older.
Saturday, 3pm
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Jay wriggled and giggled for a while, after Karen had stopped. When she got up and positioned herself to get at his armpits again, he forgot himself and spoke.
"PLEASE not the armpits again. Oh please, if you ever cared for me, Ms. Fletcher, let me go now. I--" Jay stopped as he remembered that he was not allowed to talk.
Karen smiled at him, but it was the again the smile of a cat contemplating dinner. "I am going to keep my promise not to hurt you, baby, but you _do_ get punished for speaking."
Jay's heart sank as Karen went upstairs again, and returned in a few minutes with a shopping bag. "First, I need to make sure that you don't speak again, until I order you to. So I brought some things to gag you." She pulled a dirty white sock out of the bag. Its sole was stained with sweat, and soiled with dirt.
"I wore this at soccer practice on Thursday," she said. "Now open wide, stick out your tongue, and don't resist, or you will deeply regret it."
Jay knew better than to disobey again, and did as ordered. She wrapped the sole of the sock around his tongue, shoved it all into his mouth, and closed his jaw. She took a scarf out of the bag, and tied it tightly around his head, so that it pressed between his lips, and kept the sock securely in his mouth.
"Now, I've had enough of you staring at my legs. So you get a blindfold." She put a black sleeping mask over his eys, and tied a black wool muffler over that.
"Where was I? Oh, yes, your armpits. You've wasted so much time, making me go upstairs, and spend time gagging you--my foot sweat tastes good, I hope?--that it will be nearly five o'clock by the time I've given you another fifteen rounds of armpit tickling. You do recall that each round is five minutes of tickling, and a minute of rest. I don't want you to faint, the rest is so that you stay awake, and suffer every last moment of the tickling."
Jay groaned into the sock gag, as Karen put plugs in his ears, and then heavy earmuffs over the plugs. Deprived of speech, sight, and hearing, Jay was left to concentrate on the senses of taste and touch.
The new 90-minute tickle torture of his armpits was much worse than the first. He was already exhausted, already sore, and his ankles and wrists already chafed. The sweat-stained sock tasted just awful, all sour and gritty with dirt. He didn't even try to count the rounds, just endured sheer hell. The tickling was merciless, relentless, unbearable, except that he had no choice but to bear it. He squirmed and howled into his gag, strained against his bonds, and wished he could faint. Karen's fingers became, again, the only thing in the universe besides his suffering body. They drove him mad, endlessly, round after round.
Only one aspect was better. Not able to hear, he couldn't hear Karen tauting him, calling him her ticklish little baby.
Karen stopped after the fifteenth round, even though she felt like continuing for another hour or so. She was proud of her reputation for honesty, and always kept her word.
She waited until Jay stopped wriggling, and removed the earmuffs, earplugs, and scarf. She went to the bathroom to refill Jay's water glass. She was pleased, when she returned, to note that he had not spit out the sock.
"Good. You're learning. I'm in charge here, and the sock stays in until I want to remove it. I will now, and let you drink."
She left him blindfolded as he drank. He knew better than to speak. "Now, I want two things from you. _Not_ your motorcycle. If you give me what I want, then I promise you this, and listen very carefully: I promise not to tickle you again, not today, not ever.
Understand?"
Jay nodded, and, for the first time all day, saw a glimmer of hope.
"First, I want you to tell me why you were not really attracted to the six women that you firted with at the party. Be specific. Tell me what's unattractive about each of them. If you don't manage to convince me that each one is utterly unattractive to you, then you will get not 15, but 30 more rounds of armpit tickling. Got me? Begin with Alice. You may speak."
Jay gulped. Alice was a pretty 19-year-old with a face like an angel, and cute cupcake breasts. "Her boobs are too small. She looks like a boy."
"OK, I'll accept that, given how often you've praised my breasts. But you must, then, have found Wendy very attractive. She wears size 38D."
"No, she's not attractive at all." Jay was thinking desparately. Wendy was, in fact, prettier than Karen. He did think of something. "It's because of her piercings! She has too many. Looking at all the metal in her face and body makes me ill."
"Well, I'll accept that, but just barely. You weren't quick enough, and I'm not sure I believe it. So you're on thin ice, baby. Be quick about the rest of them. What's wrong with Tracy?"
"Too fat!" Jay said immediately. Tracy was perhaps five pounds above ideal weight, but to Karen, a star athete, it would seem true, he hoped. "I get sick looking at that fat sow!"
"Then you really must like Tiffany's body, she weighs only 95 pounds."
Jay was ready. "Even smaller breasts than Alice. Tiff looks like a _young_ boy. I could never get it up for her." Actually, he thought that the petite, African American Tiffany was quite sexy. The youngest of the women, at 18, she was indeed the object of his
lustful thoughts.
"But you found Kim quite pretty, didn't you?"
"Not after she spoke," said Jay instantly. "She's so dumb!
I could never be attracted to a moron like her." It was true that Kim got by with C's in an easy major, but it was also true that he lusted after her as well.
Karen paused. They both knew that Zoe, the sixth woman in question, was the most beautiful and most intelligent in the whole sorority. "You have to be attracted to Zoe."
Jay knew that to disparage Zoe would not be believed. But he had had time to think, and was ready. "Most men would, I grant that, but not me. I just never liked red hair. Her long, flowing, bright red hair just turns me off. She's really proud of it, but it makes me ill."
"Very clever," said Karen. "So, you've succeeded in my first requirement. Too bad, really, I was looking forward to getting at your armpits yet again. But I do always keep my promises. And the second thing that I want will be very easy for you. I'm going to take out a cassette recorder, and make a statement. When I'm done, you just make the corresponding statement."
Jay heard the rustle of the shopping bag, and the click of a recorder. "I am Karen Fletcher. My boyfriend, Jay Lamb, and I are going to engage in consentual bondage, for our own pleasure. I am making this recording for his protection, so it is on record that I agree to this activity."
Karen tapped the microphone on Jay's chin, and he responded.
"I am Jay Lamb. My girlfriend, Karen Fletcher, and I are going to engage in consentual bondage, for our own pleasure. I am making this recording for her protection, so it is on record that I agree to this activity." Jay's heart sank. Any thought of going to the Dean of Students after he was free vanished. After all, there were perhaps some bruises on his wrists and ankles, nothing more. With the tape, Karen had a perfect defense against any charge he might make. He would only look like a fool.
With a click, the tape stopped. Karen called out, "Come forward."
Jay heard many footsteps. He became scared again, and began to tremble. "Oh, that's right, you didn't know that we have company down here. They've been here for some time now, listening to every word you said. They came down while you had the earplugs in, and the earmuffs on, so you did hear them. I do believe that you know them all."
Karen removed the muffler, and the sleeping mask. It took a while for Jay's eyes to adjust to the light. What he saw froze his heart: Pulling up stools and surrounding him now were Alice, Wendy, Tracy, Tiffany, Kim, and Zoe. They all wore only underpants, and Karen had taken off her bikini top, but somehow that did not get him excited.
Saturday, 5:30pm
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Karen was smiling broadly. "I promised not to tickle you, ever again, and you did give me the two things that I asked for. So I will keep my promise. But you didn't listen carefully enough. I did _not_ promise to unbind you. So there you are, quite helpless."
All seven of them were grinning at Jay with sadistic glee.
"My six sorority sisters here have made you no promises at all. And I do believe that they are somewhat peeved at you."
Jay kept trembling, and began to cry softly. "Oh, baby, you don't have to cry! It's not as bad as all that. I have made them promise _me_ not to leave any marks on you. Mostly, they're just going to _tickle_ you, nothing more. And I'll get to watch."
Jay had stopped crying, but was shaking uncontrollably in his bonds. Alice and Wendy each sat near one of his feet. They examined the variety of implements available. Tracy and Tiffany sat on opposite sides of the bench, near his waist. They could reach his knees, thighs, and lower ribs. Kim and Zoe sat near each of his armpits, also in reach of his upper ribs, neck, ears, and nose.
"Once again," Karen said to Jay, "the only thing allowed out of your mouth is laughter. _Not_ _one_ _word_."
She addressed the women. "When I say 'start,' go to work on him. Don't stop until I say 'pause.' The first round will be ten minutes. OK, ... start!"
It was much, much worse than Jay had feared. Alice rubbed a
toothbrush, over and over again, across his left arch. With her other hand, she worked a basting brush between his toes. Wendy scratched the ball of his right foot with her nails, endlessly scraping away. With her other hand, she tickled the bottoms of his toes with a straw broom. Apparently, Karen had shared her knowledge of what worked best, while he could not hear.
Tracy dug into his short ribs with one hand, and tickled his left thigh with the other. Tiffany twirled the feather duster in his navel, and dug into his right rib cage with her other hand.
Kim kept poking his left armpit, and also drew patterns in his left ear with an artist's brush. Zoe dug into his right armpit with great enthusiasm, and also into his upper ribs with her other hand.
As they all worked with zeal and righteous indignation at the insults he had given them, Jay went completely crazy. Totally overloaded, out of control, with no escape, he suffered and suffered, wondering why he had not fainted, and enduring the agony of 12 hands that never paused in tickling him. He prayed for the ten minutes to end, and wriggled helplessly, laughing and crying at the same time.
Being the center of attention of seven beautiful women seemed to bring him no joy.
Karen kept an eye on the clock, and cooed at Jay. "Poor, poor baby! Poor ticklish little baby. Does it tickle you? Does it?
Tickle, tickle, tickle. Only three minutes until your pause. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Can you take it? We have _all_ evening ahead of us. The six of them ate an early dinner. Tickle, tickle, tickle. It will go on and on."
Finally he heard "Pause." Knowing better than to speak, and having no breath anyway, Jay pleaded to Karen with his eyes. Karen was not moved. "The pause will be 45 seconds only. That's all he gets. Is another round of ten in order? No, let's see if he can stand 15 minutes without fainting. Yes, 15. Ok, get ready. Now ... start!"
All six went back to work on him. They traded information on what tickling techniques worked best. They discussed his ticklish spots with clinical detachment, but they never let their talk stop them from using both hands to tickle him, at all times. Zoe had found the perfect spot in his armpit to poke, and the perfect rhythm to do it. She explained it to Kim, and now both were relentless, utterly ruthless. Jay had no energy left, was not wriggling any more, just lying helpless, and laughing soundlessly, with an aching diaphram. He was just about to loose consciousness, when he heard Karen speak.
"Pause. Let's give him a pee break, he almost fainted on us." Karen got the milk carton, and it was humiliating to use it with them all watching. She gave him some orange juice to drink through a straw, remarking that he needed to keep his strength up. They all changed positions with each other, to get at different parts of his body. Karen gave them the signal, and it all started again.
Jay was in tickle-torture hell, and he had no choice but to endure it. He lost track of rounds, of them changing places, and he barely even noticed when one of them went to the bathroom, and only ten hands were tickling him. Karen seemed to know just when he was about to pass out, and kept him from it. Every minute of his torture seemed like an eternity, and it went on and on.
During one pause, Karen gave him more juice, and told him that he was allowed to speak, but only ten words. He gathered strength, and spoke in a hoarse whisper. "I most humbly beg for mercy. Please have mercy. Mercy."
This was a major mistake. It only inflamed them more, gave them new energy, and they reminded him of his terrible insults.
"Is a stupid moron supposed to understand the word 'mercy'?"
"I'm too fat to give mercy."
"My breasts are too small to contain any mercy."
"Mine are even smaller, and contain less than none."
"I've got too many ear studs to even hear you."
"Didn't you know that redheads are are prone to be cruel, and that we never show mercy?"
They went back at him with great vigor, and persuaded Karen to make all of the rounds fifteen minutes long. Jay was soon in a state of weakness, unable to pull on his bonds, unable to laugh out loud, only able to lie there and suffer. He was reduced to a helpless blob of quivering, sensitive flesh, tickled without any mercy all through the evening, and into the night. He suffered, and feebly quivered, and listened to Karen's taunts. The women reveled in keeping him in this state, round after round, hour after hour.
Saturday, 11pm
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Jay could feel something new. Somebody was rubbing ice on his nipples! They had put a blindfold back on him some time ago, and he had also been gagged again, with Karen's other dirty sock from Thursday's practice. The other six had laughed at him, as Karen repeated the procedure as before. Zoe said that she had some
_really_ sweat-soaked socks from her jogging, and would supply them if Karen wanted, the next time they wanted to gag him.
The ice made him jerk in his bonds again, and then they all resumed tickling him. He could tell that it was Zoe working on his right foot now, by the texture of her nails. Amazing that, in the midst of his agony, that he could discern this. As usual, just when he thought he would faint, they stopped at Karen's signal.
"The ice seemed to revive him. Let's keep some down here. I'll get more, but it's time for you all to ... start!"
When Karen came back with an ice bucket, she made him a promise. "In a few hours, at 2am, I promise that we'll let you sleep." This time, Jay had listened carefully. He recognized that 'let you sleep' was not the same as 'let you go free.'
Sunday, 1:45am
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"Stop! We're done for the day, sisters!" Karen's voice had never sounded so beautiful to Jay.
"It's only a quarter to two. Time enough for one more round!"
"It will take a little while to get him ready to sleep. You know the rule: a full eight hours of sleep, we never skimp on that. We want him rested for the morning." She took off the blindfold, and warned him, "I'm about to remove your gag. You'll be allowed to speak, but just five words. And not until I tell you."
Karen removed the scarf, and the saliva-drenched sock, and threw them on the floor. Zoe came over with juice for him to drink through a straw. Wendy came with an adult size diaper. It took a while to get it on him, immobile as he was. Karen said, "Now you may speak."
Jay could only whimper, "Haven't I been punished enough?"
Karen laughed. "A contraction counts as two words, but I'll let it go this time. You called Kim dumb, but you _still_ haven't figured it out yet, have you? You're the moron. I'll let Kim explain it to you, and I'm sure she'll use small words, so you can understand what's going on here."
Kim grinned at him. "We're not doing this to punish you, stupid. We're doing it because we enjoy it, baby! We enjoy it enormously. We love tickling helpless men. Did it never occur to you that the name of our sorority is Tau Kappa Lambda? The the Greek equivalent of T, K, L. Tickle." Jay gasped, but knew better than to speak.
"Karen outgrew you as a boyfriend, and would have dumped you six months ago, but she wanted to be an officer at Tau Kappa Lambda. To do that, you have to supply the sorority with a tickle-toy. That's you, baby! You were set up at that party. Each of us came up and teased you, until you flirted back. And we kept re-filling your drinks. Wendy practically had to pull your hand inside her top. Karen only pretended to be angry, and was quite amused by all your pleading letters and e-mails. I'll let her explain why this Friday night was the best time to spring the trap, and capture you."
Karen came close to him, and once again grinned like a cat who had a mouse well trapped. "You were so happy to have a class schedule with only Monday-Thursday courses this semester. Squeezing
all your classes into two days a week. And this is a holiday weekend, with Columbus day on Monday. So all your classes don't meet again until _Thursday_." Jay began to tremble again.
"Even better, baby, instructors won't report you for just missing one class. And you're going to miss all of yours on Thursday. We intend to keep you until a week from Monday morning."
Jay was shaking uncontrollably now, and crying again. Still, he knew better than to speak.
"That's eight more long, _long_ days of tickle-torture. Poor baby, I _do_ feel sorry for you. You should feel sorry for me, too,
though. I will keep my promise, and never tickle you again. But I will get to watch, and ochestrate the pauses, and, of course, taunt you whenever the mood strikes me." Jay was sobbing now, without restraint. Kim wiped his nose for him.
Karen came closer to him, leaning over his face, and staring right into his eyes. "The six women here are really pissed off at the way you described them, so they will be your principal ticklers. But they do have classes themselves, and other things to do. Don't worry, though, you won't lack for all of the attention that you so richly deserve. We have over 60 women in this sorority, and there is a sign-up sheet upstairs." Jay continued to sob, and Kim kept wiping his nose, quite tenderly.
Karen chuckled. "I can guarantee that we will have you covered, six ticklers at all times, with three alternates right here in the basement, ready to take over at a moment's notice. For when somebody needs to go to the bathroom, or answer a phone call, or just gets tired fingers. We'll _never_ stop your tickle-torture, just enough pauses to keep you conscious. It will just go on, and on, and on. Poor baby!"
Zoe spoke up now. "Tau Kappa Lambda has been doing this since we were founded, over forty years ago. The sorority records give us good advice, on how much a healthy college boy can take. That's where the rule comes from, about never skimping on sleep. Tomorrow, we'll begin taking video tapes of you, for the archives. Also, an alumna who is a physician will come by to check your heart. Can't be too careful."
Karen finished the explanation for him, staring right into his eyes again. "So then. Eight hours of sleep per night, and about an hour each day to feed you. No need to take you to the bathroom, or use a bed pan. We'll keep you in diapers, baby! One of the 18-year-
old pledges can change you, while you're still being tickled. And you'll get a sponge bath each day, also while being tickled. It will be about fifteen hours per day of relentless tickle-torture, every day, until a week from Monday morning! How does that sound, baby?
You really _are_ very, very ticklish. And we'll take full advantage, for eight more days. Every minute will seem like eternity to you, baby!"
Karen bent down, and once again kissed him, very tenderly, on the forehead. "Sleep tight, my little baby boy. Sweet dreams, my dear little tickle-toy."
The End
This is an F/m story. If you don't like that, don't read it.
All characters in this story are 18 years old or older.
Saturday, 3pm
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Jay wriggled and giggled for a while, after Karen had stopped. When she got up and positioned herself to get at his armpits again, he forgot himself and spoke.
"PLEASE not the armpits again. Oh please, if you ever cared for me, Ms. Fletcher, let me go now. I--" Jay stopped as he remembered that he was not allowed to talk.
Karen smiled at him, but it was the again the smile of a cat contemplating dinner. "I am going to keep my promise not to hurt you, baby, but you _do_ get punished for speaking."
Jay's heart sank as Karen went upstairs again, and returned in a few minutes with a shopping bag. "First, I need to make sure that you don't speak again, until I order you to. So I brought some things to gag you." She pulled a dirty white sock out of the bag. Its sole was stained with sweat, and soiled with dirt.
"I wore this at soccer practice on Thursday," she said. "Now open wide, stick out your tongue, and don't resist, or you will deeply regret it."
Jay knew better than to disobey again, and did as ordered. She wrapped the sole of the sock around his tongue, shoved it all into his mouth, and closed his jaw. She took a scarf out of the bag, and tied it tightly around his head, so that it pressed between his lips, and kept the sock securely in his mouth.
"Now, I've had enough of you staring at my legs. So you get a blindfold." She put a black sleeping mask over his eys, and tied a black wool muffler over that.
"Where was I? Oh, yes, your armpits. You've wasted so much time, making me go upstairs, and spend time gagging you--my foot sweat tastes good, I hope?--that it will be nearly five o'clock by the time I've given you another fifteen rounds of armpit tickling. You do recall that each round is five minutes of tickling, and a minute of rest. I don't want you to faint, the rest is so that you stay awake, and suffer every last moment of the tickling."
Jay groaned into the sock gag, as Karen put plugs in his ears, and then heavy earmuffs over the plugs. Deprived of speech, sight, and hearing, Jay was left to concentrate on the senses of taste and touch.
The new 90-minute tickle torture of his armpits was much worse than the first. He was already exhausted, already sore, and his ankles and wrists already chafed. The sweat-stained sock tasted just awful, all sour and gritty with dirt. He didn't even try to count the rounds, just endured sheer hell. The tickling was merciless, relentless, unbearable, except that he had no choice but to bear it. He squirmed and howled into his gag, strained against his bonds, and wished he could faint. Karen's fingers became, again, the only thing in the universe besides his suffering body. They drove him mad, endlessly, round after round.
Only one aspect was better. Not able to hear, he couldn't hear Karen tauting him, calling him her ticklish little baby.
Karen stopped after the fifteenth round, even though she felt like continuing for another hour or so. She was proud of her reputation for honesty, and always kept her word.
She waited until Jay stopped wriggling, and removed the earmuffs, earplugs, and scarf. She went to the bathroom to refill Jay's water glass. She was pleased, when she returned, to note that he had not spit out the sock.
"Good. You're learning. I'm in charge here, and the sock stays in until I want to remove it. I will now, and let you drink."
She left him blindfolded as he drank. He knew better than to speak. "Now, I want two things from you. _Not_ your motorcycle. If you give me what I want, then I promise you this, and listen very carefully: I promise not to tickle you again, not today, not ever.
Understand?"
Jay nodded, and, for the first time all day, saw a glimmer of hope.
"First, I want you to tell me why you were not really attracted to the six women that you firted with at the party. Be specific. Tell me what's unattractive about each of them. If you don't manage to convince me that each one is utterly unattractive to you, then you will get not 15, but 30 more rounds of armpit tickling. Got me? Begin with Alice. You may speak."
Jay gulped. Alice was a pretty 19-year-old with a face like an angel, and cute cupcake breasts. "Her boobs are too small. She looks like a boy."
"OK, I'll accept that, given how often you've praised my breasts. But you must, then, have found Wendy very attractive. She wears size 38D."
"No, she's not attractive at all." Jay was thinking desparately. Wendy was, in fact, prettier than Karen. He did think of something. "It's because of her piercings! She has too many. Looking at all the metal in her face and body makes me ill."
"Well, I'll accept that, but just barely. You weren't quick enough, and I'm not sure I believe it. So you're on thin ice, baby. Be quick about the rest of them. What's wrong with Tracy?"
"Too fat!" Jay said immediately. Tracy was perhaps five pounds above ideal weight, but to Karen, a star athete, it would seem true, he hoped. "I get sick looking at that fat sow!"
"Then you really must like Tiffany's body, she weighs only 95 pounds."
Jay was ready. "Even smaller breasts than Alice. Tiff looks like a _young_ boy. I could never get it up for her." Actually, he thought that the petite, African American Tiffany was quite sexy. The youngest of the women, at 18, she was indeed the object of his
lustful thoughts.
"But you found Kim quite pretty, didn't you?"
"Not after she spoke," said Jay instantly. "She's so dumb!
I could never be attracted to a moron like her." It was true that Kim got by with C's in an easy major, but it was also true that he lusted after her as well.
Karen paused. They both knew that Zoe, the sixth woman in question, was the most beautiful and most intelligent in the whole sorority. "You have to be attracted to Zoe."
Jay knew that to disparage Zoe would not be believed. But he had had time to think, and was ready. "Most men would, I grant that, but not me. I just never liked red hair. Her long, flowing, bright red hair just turns me off. She's really proud of it, but it makes me ill."
"Very clever," said Karen. "So, you've succeeded in my first requirement. Too bad, really, I was looking forward to getting at your armpits yet again. But I do always keep my promises. And the second thing that I want will be very easy for you. I'm going to take out a cassette recorder, and make a statement. When I'm done, you just make the corresponding statement."
Jay heard the rustle of the shopping bag, and the click of a recorder. "I am Karen Fletcher. My boyfriend, Jay Lamb, and I are going to engage in consentual bondage, for our own pleasure. I am making this recording for his protection, so it is on record that I agree to this activity."
Karen tapped the microphone on Jay's chin, and he responded.
"I am Jay Lamb. My girlfriend, Karen Fletcher, and I are going to engage in consentual bondage, for our own pleasure. I am making this recording for her protection, so it is on record that I agree to this activity." Jay's heart sank. Any thought of going to the Dean of Students after he was free vanished. After all, there were perhaps some bruises on his wrists and ankles, nothing more. With the tape, Karen had a perfect defense against any charge he might make. He would only look like a fool.
With a click, the tape stopped. Karen called out, "Come forward."
Jay heard many footsteps. He became scared again, and began to tremble. "Oh, that's right, you didn't know that we have company down here. They've been here for some time now, listening to every word you said. They came down while you had the earplugs in, and the earmuffs on, so you did hear them. I do believe that you know them all."
Karen removed the muffler, and the sleeping mask. It took a while for Jay's eyes to adjust to the light. What he saw froze his heart: Pulling up stools and surrounding him now were Alice, Wendy, Tracy, Tiffany, Kim, and Zoe. They all wore only underpants, and Karen had taken off her bikini top, but somehow that did not get him excited.
Saturday, 5:30pm
----------------
Karen was smiling broadly. "I promised not to tickle you, ever again, and you did give me the two things that I asked for. So I will keep my promise. But you didn't listen carefully enough. I did _not_ promise to unbind you. So there you are, quite helpless."
All seven of them were grinning at Jay with sadistic glee.
"My six sorority sisters here have made you no promises at all. And I do believe that they are somewhat peeved at you."
Jay kept trembling, and began to cry softly. "Oh, baby, you don't have to cry! It's not as bad as all that. I have made them promise _me_ not to leave any marks on you. Mostly, they're just going to _tickle_ you, nothing more. And I'll get to watch."
Jay had stopped crying, but was shaking uncontrollably in his bonds. Alice and Wendy each sat near one of his feet. They examined the variety of implements available. Tracy and Tiffany sat on opposite sides of the bench, near his waist. They could reach his knees, thighs, and lower ribs. Kim and Zoe sat near each of his armpits, also in reach of his upper ribs, neck, ears, and nose.
"Once again," Karen said to Jay, "the only thing allowed out of your mouth is laughter. _Not_ _one_ _word_."
She addressed the women. "When I say 'start,' go to work on him. Don't stop until I say 'pause.' The first round will be ten minutes. OK, ... start!"
It was much, much worse than Jay had feared. Alice rubbed a
toothbrush, over and over again, across his left arch. With her other hand, she worked a basting brush between his toes. Wendy scratched the ball of his right foot with her nails, endlessly scraping away. With her other hand, she tickled the bottoms of his toes with a straw broom. Apparently, Karen had shared her knowledge of what worked best, while he could not hear.
Tracy dug into his short ribs with one hand, and tickled his left thigh with the other. Tiffany twirled the feather duster in his navel, and dug into his right rib cage with her other hand.
Kim kept poking his left armpit, and also drew patterns in his left ear with an artist's brush. Zoe dug into his right armpit with great enthusiasm, and also into his upper ribs with her other hand.
As they all worked with zeal and righteous indignation at the insults he had given them, Jay went completely crazy. Totally overloaded, out of control, with no escape, he suffered and suffered, wondering why he had not fainted, and enduring the agony of 12 hands that never paused in tickling him. He prayed for the ten minutes to end, and wriggled helplessly, laughing and crying at the same time.
Being the center of attention of seven beautiful women seemed to bring him no joy.
Karen kept an eye on the clock, and cooed at Jay. "Poor, poor baby! Poor ticklish little baby. Does it tickle you? Does it?
Tickle, tickle, tickle. Only three minutes until your pause. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Can you take it? We have _all_ evening ahead of us. The six of them ate an early dinner. Tickle, tickle, tickle. It will go on and on."
Finally he heard "Pause." Knowing better than to speak, and having no breath anyway, Jay pleaded to Karen with his eyes. Karen was not moved. "The pause will be 45 seconds only. That's all he gets. Is another round of ten in order? No, let's see if he can stand 15 minutes without fainting. Yes, 15. Ok, get ready. Now ... start!"
All six went back to work on him. They traded information on what tickling techniques worked best. They discussed his ticklish spots with clinical detachment, but they never let their talk stop them from using both hands to tickle him, at all times. Zoe had found the perfect spot in his armpit to poke, and the perfect rhythm to do it. She explained it to Kim, and now both were relentless, utterly ruthless. Jay had no energy left, was not wriggling any more, just lying helpless, and laughing soundlessly, with an aching diaphram. He was just about to loose consciousness, when he heard Karen speak.
"Pause. Let's give him a pee break, he almost fainted on us." Karen got the milk carton, and it was humiliating to use it with them all watching. She gave him some orange juice to drink through a straw, remarking that he needed to keep his strength up. They all changed positions with each other, to get at different parts of his body. Karen gave them the signal, and it all started again.
Jay was in tickle-torture hell, and he had no choice but to endure it. He lost track of rounds, of them changing places, and he barely even noticed when one of them went to the bathroom, and only ten hands were tickling him. Karen seemed to know just when he was about to pass out, and kept him from it. Every minute of his torture seemed like an eternity, and it went on and on.
During one pause, Karen gave him more juice, and told him that he was allowed to speak, but only ten words. He gathered strength, and spoke in a hoarse whisper. "I most humbly beg for mercy. Please have mercy. Mercy."
This was a major mistake. It only inflamed them more, gave them new energy, and they reminded him of his terrible insults.
"Is a stupid moron supposed to understand the word 'mercy'?"
"I'm too fat to give mercy."
"My breasts are too small to contain any mercy."
"Mine are even smaller, and contain less than none."
"I've got too many ear studs to even hear you."
"Didn't you know that redheads are are prone to be cruel, and that we never show mercy?"
They went back at him with great vigor, and persuaded Karen to make all of the rounds fifteen minutes long. Jay was soon in a state of weakness, unable to pull on his bonds, unable to laugh out loud, only able to lie there and suffer. He was reduced to a helpless blob of quivering, sensitive flesh, tickled without any mercy all through the evening, and into the night. He suffered, and feebly quivered, and listened to Karen's taunts. The women reveled in keeping him in this state, round after round, hour after hour.
Saturday, 11pm
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Jay could feel something new. Somebody was rubbing ice on his nipples! They had put a blindfold back on him some time ago, and he had also been gagged again, with Karen's other dirty sock from Thursday's practice. The other six had laughed at him, as Karen repeated the procedure as before. Zoe said that she had some
_really_ sweat-soaked socks from her jogging, and would supply them if Karen wanted, the next time they wanted to gag him.
The ice made him jerk in his bonds again, and then they all resumed tickling him. He could tell that it was Zoe working on his right foot now, by the texture of her nails. Amazing that, in the midst of his agony, that he could discern this. As usual, just when he thought he would faint, they stopped at Karen's signal.
"The ice seemed to revive him. Let's keep some down here. I'll get more, but it's time for you all to ... start!"
When Karen came back with an ice bucket, she made him a promise. "In a few hours, at 2am, I promise that we'll let you sleep." This time, Jay had listened carefully. He recognized that 'let you sleep' was not the same as 'let you go free.'
Sunday, 1:45am
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"Stop! We're done for the day, sisters!" Karen's voice had never sounded so beautiful to Jay.
"It's only a quarter to two. Time enough for one more round!"
"It will take a little while to get him ready to sleep. You know the rule: a full eight hours of sleep, we never skimp on that. We want him rested for the morning." She took off the blindfold, and warned him, "I'm about to remove your gag. You'll be allowed to speak, but just five words. And not until I tell you."
Karen removed the scarf, and the saliva-drenched sock, and threw them on the floor. Zoe came over with juice for him to drink through a straw. Wendy came with an adult size diaper. It took a while to get it on him, immobile as he was. Karen said, "Now you may speak."
Jay could only whimper, "Haven't I been punished enough?"
Karen laughed. "A contraction counts as two words, but I'll let it go this time. You called Kim dumb, but you _still_ haven't figured it out yet, have you? You're the moron. I'll let Kim explain it to you, and I'm sure she'll use small words, so you can understand what's going on here."
Kim grinned at him. "We're not doing this to punish you, stupid. We're doing it because we enjoy it, baby! We enjoy it enormously. We love tickling helpless men. Did it never occur to you that the name of our sorority is Tau Kappa Lambda? The the Greek equivalent of T, K, L. Tickle." Jay gasped, but knew better than to speak.
"Karen outgrew you as a boyfriend, and would have dumped you six months ago, but she wanted to be an officer at Tau Kappa Lambda. To do that, you have to supply the sorority with a tickle-toy. That's you, baby! You were set up at that party. Each of us came up and teased you, until you flirted back. And we kept re-filling your drinks. Wendy practically had to pull your hand inside her top. Karen only pretended to be angry, and was quite amused by all your pleading letters and e-mails. I'll let her explain why this Friday night was the best time to spring the trap, and capture you."
Karen came close to him, and once again grinned like a cat who had a mouse well trapped. "You were so happy to have a class schedule with only Monday-Thursday courses this semester. Squeezing
all your classes into two days a week. And this is a holiday weekend, with Columbus day on Monday. So all your classes don't meet again until _Thursday_." Jay began to tremble again.
"Even better, baby, instructors won't report you for just missing one class. And you're going to miss all of yours on Thursday. We intend to keep you until a week from Monday morning."
Jay was shaking uncontrollably now, and crying again. Still, he knew better than to speak.
"That's eight more long, _long_ days of tickle-torture. Poor baby, I _do_ feel sorry for you. You should feel sorry for me, too,
though. I will keep my promise, and never tickle you again. But I will get to watch, and ochestrate the pauses, and, of course, taunt you whenever the mood strikes me." Jay was sobbing now, without restraint. Kim wiped his nose for him.
Karen came closer to him, leaning over his face, and staring right into his eyes. "The six women here are really pissed off at the way you described them, so they will be your principal ticklers. But they do have classes themselves, and other things to do. Don't worry, though, you won't lack for all of the attention that you so richly deserve. We have over 60 women in this sorority, and there is a sign-up sheet upstairs." Jay continued to sob, and Kim kept wiping his nose, quite tenderly.
Karen chuckled. "I can guarantee that we will have you covered, six ticklers at all times, with three alternates right here in the basement, ready to take over at a moment's notice. For when somebody needs to go to the bathroom, or answer a phone call, or just gets tired fingers. We'll _never_ stop your tickle-torture, just enough pauses to keep you conscious. It will just go on, and on, and on. Poor baby!"
Zoe spoke up now. "Tau Kappa Lambda has been doing this since we were founded, over forty years ago. The sorority records give us good advice, on how much a healthy college boy can take. That's where the rule comes from, about never skimping on sleep. Tomorrow, we'll begin taking video tapes of you, for the archives. Also, an alumna who is a physician will come by to check your heart. Can't be too careful."
Karen finished the explanation for him, staring right into his eyes again. "So then. Eight hours of sleep per night, and about an hour each day to feed you. No need to take you to the bathroom, or use a bed pan. We'll keep you in diapers, baby! One of the 18-year-
old pledges can change you, while you're still being tickled. And you'll get a sponge bath each day, also while being tickled. It will be about fifteen hours per day of relentless tickle-torture, every day, until a week from Monday morning! How does that sound, baby?
You really _are_ very, very ticklish. And we'll take full advantage, for eight more days. Every minute will seem like eternity to you, baby!"
Karen bent down, and once again kissed him, very tenderly, on the forehead. "Sleep tight, my little baby boy. Sweet dreams, my dear little tickle-toy."
The End
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