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Results 1 to 3 of 3
  1. #1
    Join Date
    Jan 2006
    Pittsburgh PA, moving to Toronto ON

    Post True story;public tickling scene

    Public Tickling Scene;

    This is distilled from conversations held with the woman who was the victim, shortly after the actual event happened.

    Her name was Paulette. She was 30 years old, pleasingly plump, very pretty of face. She stood 5’6” and weighed about 155, but it was well distributed and looked pretty good. She had healthy, shiny medium brown hair that reached to about the middle of her back. Her complexion was a smooth, healthy pink.

    Paulette was a 24/7 lifestyle submissive, living in her owner’s home. She did not have a job outside the home. During the previous 3 months, she had repeatedly broken the rules her master had established for her behavior. The pain he used to punish her was ineffective, because she liked pain.

    When they arrived at the T. E. S. (Till Eulenspiegel Society) party loft and went to the changing room, Paulette found that her master had brought one of the most scandalously brief of her slave costumes. The idea of wearing it in the presence of anyone except him upset her. The halter top consisted of a one inch wide leather strap which fastened in back. Where the strap would have crossed Paulette’s nipples, it turned into a pair of four inch diameter circles, with the center two inches cut out. This left her nipples and aureoles exposed while holding her breasts up so they didn’t sag. Below, he had her in a garter belt with no panties underneath, leaving her crotch and ass fully in view. To her surprise, the pumps on her stockinged feet were closed toed, and only medium heeled.

    Master led Paulette to the edge of the viewing area, and there she saw something that shocked her; it was the custom made bondage sawhorse from their home dungeon. It was handcrafted from dark stained, perfectly polished and lacquered mahogany. The top was extra wide, about six inches across, and was layered in thick, soft padding covered with leather upholstery. The burgundy leather was tacked down with plentiful ornamental brass rivets.

    Paulette looked a question at her owner. He told her that this was her punishment for months of escalating disobedience; something he knew she would NOT enjoy! He was quite correct. Paulette was a very private person., and being bound and punished in front of so many people was a thing she very definitely would not enjoy.

    Master bound Paulette to the sawhorse. Her hands were near the bottom of the pair of sawhorse legs at one end, turned palms out with the fingers taped to the sawhorse legs. Her wrists and upper arms were strapped to the legs higher up.

    A device made of three leather bands went over her head. One strap crossed her eyes, with a four inch high, three inch wide oval, padded on the inside, covering each eye. The second strap crossed her mouth, passing through some of the wide open slots in a Whiffle ball the size of a Spalding stickball ball. This would make it impossible for Paulette to utter an understandable word, but it would not interfere with her breathing or cut down the volume of sound she could produce. The third strap fastened tightly behind her head. A stout cord led from the buckle at the back of the head harness to the halter buckle, holding Paulette’s head in a neck bent back position, as though she were standing erect and looking up.

    The leather garter belt had a brass ring at the point of each hip. Loose straps dangling from those buckled to the underside of the sawhorse, holding her hips in place.

    Paulette’s legs were positioned so the angle between her belly and thighs was about 120 degrees. A strap wrapped around her thighs just above the knees, under the sawhorse. Her lower legs formed a 120 degree angle with her upper legs so that her shins were parallel to the floor and her ankles were strapped to the rear sawhorse legs. Then, master took off her shoes. He slit the nylon of her stockings between the big and second toe of each foot, then he peeled the nylon away from each big toe and fastened a small strap around the stem of each big toe.

    Even in private, Paulette had never been bound so completely. Never before had she felt so completely helpless, so immobile and defenseless. In private, she would have been confident that her master would do her no serious harm, but this was in front of a crowd, many of whom were complete strangers. Paulette was scared.

    Paulette felt a waft of air and then the edge of a sheet of oak tag brush her left knee, then heard the sound of tape being torn from a dispenser. She realized, master was taping a sign to the side of the sawhorse. She now heard a growing murmuring from the crowd. She sensed that spectators were gathering around her. Then master whispered into Paulette’s right ear; “ I put up a sign. It invites anyone who cares to participate, male or female, young or old, to assist in punishing you for your many transgressions.”

    Paulette was stunned. Strangers, people she couldn’t even see and would never know, were going to punish her? Oh my God, she thought. The humiliation! Then master told her the worst; “The signs says no spanking, whipping, paddling, slapping, pinching poking or anything else that causes pain. It invites all and sundry to tickle you.”

    Paulette’s heart almost stopped. Tickling! Oh dear God, please, please not tickling! She couldn’t stand tickling! She HATED to be tickled! She had never been tickled for more then ten seconds at a time in her whole life! Master added; “The sign forbids tickling tools that might scrape or abrade. It says fingertips, feathers, furs, pussywillow pads, Q-tips, soft brushes all may be used with no limits on what part of your body they are applied to, no limit on how long they may continue, no limit on how many of them may tickle you at the same time. It also says that they are encouraged to force you to cum against your will. I’m going to go get a drink and then find a seat where I can watch what they do to you. This is a punishment I KNOW you won’t enjoy. Maybe this will make you mend your ways. I won’t say have fun, because I know you won’t. Instead, I’ll say suffer, because I know you will!”

    Then Paulette’s master was gone, and the crowd noise around her increased. Master could not be doing this to her! He knew how private she was. He knew how ticklish she was. He knew she abhorred being tickled! Well, perhaps he was bluffing to scare her. Perhaps the sign said something else, and he wanted her to know that he could do what he said if she angered him again. If that was his game, it had worked. She was terrified! Never again would she dare disobey him!

    She had almost convinced herself this was a bluff when she felt the first tickle. A fingertip slid down the length of her right side. She gave out a giggle and twitched to the left, but the fingertip glided back up her torso. She giggled again, and futilely tried to twitch farther away, but could not. Paula panicked! She strained every muscle to try to break free, but achieved nothing. She heard a young male voice saying; “Hey guys, look! She’s REALLY ticklish!”

    She next felt the five fingers of one hand wriggling and scrabbling up and down her side, soon joined by the same person’s other hand. Now she was wildly laughing and desperately struggling. Attempts to control her responses were utterly useless. Her body was out of control, bucking and twitching and sweating, her teased muscles quivering helplessly.

    It seemed to continue forever. Sometimes it seemed that only one person was tickling her. Sometimes it seemed like dozens. Sometimes she knew it was fingertips, sometimes she thought it was feathers, or strips of fur, or artists paintbrushes, or shaving brushes, or toothbrushes, or hair brushes, or some combination of any or all of them at once. The rest of her stockings were torn away early on, and someone realized very soon that her feet were more ticklish than anyplace else. From then on, her desperately ticklish bare feet were not left alone for a second. Fingertips on the balls of her feet. Feathers in the arches. Tongues between her toes. God, it was driving her out of her mind!

    It was not bad enough that they tortured her ticklish flesh, but they also kept talking. They verbally teased her and taunted her. They made fun of her helplessness, her lack of self control, the way her defenseless body quivered and twitched under the merciless tickling, the way her toes frantically wriggled, the way she kept wildly, uncontrollably laughing and howling.

    It was too much! Entirely too much! Poor Paulette couldn’t stand it! Not one second more! But there wasn’t a thing she could do. No way to cover up. No way to fight back. No way to escape. No way to hide. Worst of all, no way to make herself stop laughing! She thought it had gone on forever. In fact it had been only 18 minutes since the first tickle began. This must be hell. There was no way that this could get worse. Then, it did.

    Paulette could tell by the long nails that these were the hands of a woman. They began on her belly, then moved to her flanks, then her armpits, but then began to tickle the undersides of her breasts, and besides feeling horribly ticklish, this tickle made Paulette’s nipples begin to swell! The bitch who was tickling her tits called out; “Hey Jenny! Look, the slave likes it! Her nipples are getting all hard. Bring those nice goose feathers over and play with these nipples while I keep on tickling her boobs!”

    Paulette was outraged! “No!” She was thinking; “I don’t like it! I fucking HATE it!!! Goddammit I’m not a lezzie! I’m straight! I don’t get turned on by women! I don’t! Stop it! Stop, dammit! Stop stop stop stop stop stop stoppit!” that’s what she said in her mind. What came out of her mouth was just peal after peal of insane, hysterical laughter.

    Paulette was utterly furious. All she wanted to do was curse and swear and yell and scream, and kick and scratch and punch. The only movement allowed by her bonds was to wriggle and squirm and twitch, and for her nipples to grow to their maximum engorgement. And to slowly and desperately throb as the ticklish teasing of her breasts and nipples began, very much against her will, to turn her on and make her horny. The only sounds she could make were hysterical guffaws of laughter.

    The frustration and humiliation broke her. She started to cry, but the pads on the insides of the blindfold absorbed all her tears so no one but her knew it.
    Paulette wanted to sob in her bitter humiliation, but all she could do was keep laughing and laughing and laughing. And those two dykes who were tickling her tits and her nipples were making her so goddam horny she just couldn’t stand it. And then that got worse!

    Someone had noticed her labia growing engorged, and had gotten two feathers and now they were tickling her labia with them! The turn on was getting unbearable! Poor Paulette needed to cum, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it! What with the gag and her incessant laughter she couldn’t produce even one understandable word, when she desperately needed to beg to be fucked by some guy! She was totally losing her mind, when, impossibly, it got even worse.

    Whoever was tickling the lips of her pussy was carefully watching. When they saw that the tip of her clit was protruding from the flesh hood that normally covered it, they called to a waiting accomplice. This person started to tickle the head of Paulette’s defenseless, unbearably sensitive clit with two tiny, soft artists brushes.

    That was the last straw for Paulette. The stream of laughter was replaced by a single, endless keening of sheer ticklish agony. The one who was tickling her clit knew Paulette was in serious trouble and took mercy on her. He moistened his right thumb and forefinger, reached down and rapidly brought her to climax, three times. After the third, she was as limp as a dishrag, and the man who made her cum bellowed, in a voice that literally vibrated the floor, walls and ceiling of the huge room; “That is enough! She can’t take any more without serious harm being done! Leave her alone!”

    Recognizing the formidable person as the TES master at arms, Tank, everyone hastened to comply. Paulette’s master rushed over. Tank whispered; “She’s been pushed way past her limits, man. Anything more right now will do serious harm. Please take her home.”

    “Right away Tank. Thanks for looking out for us. I got distracted by watching that stunning dom whip her equally stunning slave girl. It took me awhile to realize that the horrible keening was coming from Paulette. I’ll take her home right now.

    As her master unbound her, whispering in her ear; “It’s alright Paulette. It’s all over now. No more tickling. No more teasing. As soon as I have you unbound we’ll change back into street clothes and go home to rest.” She kept uncontrollably twitching and shuddering. As soon as the gag came out, Paulette begged; “Please master, don’t ever punish me this way again! Please! From now on I’ll always obey you! I’ll never be bad again! Please, please, please, please never punish me this way! It’s too much. I simply can’t take it!” and burst into tears.

    “There there Paulette. You’ll never give me a reason to get this extreme again will you?”

    “Never, my master! No, never! And master, may I beg a favor?” He nodded;
    “When we get home, will you fuck me good and hard? Those people left me so horny that even though I came three times at the end it’s still driving me crazy! I need to feel my master inside of me.”

    He smiled and nodded while drying her tears with his handkerchief.


    "Die Meisterschaft gilt oft fur Egoismus"- Goethe
    (Mastery is often mistaken for Egotism)

    "I've just got a couple more years on ya' babe, that's all.
    I've had more chances to fly and more places to fall.
    It ain't that I'm wiser, it's only that I've spent more time with my back to the wall,
    so I picked up a couple more years on ya' babe, an' that's all." (Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show)

  2. #2
    Join Date
    May 2005
    NYC / NJ
    Awesome...how helpless and vulnerable!!

  3. #3
    Join Date
    Jan 2002
    NY City
    Blog Entries
    I missed this when it was first posted. Great story!
    <== the sacred soles of Goddess Shelly

    A link to my stories on the TMF.

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