ThePurpleQuill
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Jan 11, 2018
- Messages
- 161
- Points
- 16
He gazes solemnly out his front window, a large moving van blocking most of his view, signaling the end of an era for Daniel. His neighbor Lana, having just finalized her divorce, was in the process of downsizing from her home, relocating several hours away in the process much to Daniel’s dismay. There had been rumblings for some time of her impending divorce, but little could he imagine the neighbor he had salivated over for years is finally leaving: her platinum blonde hair always caught his eye as she made for her morning run, watching her toned physique bounce down the cul de sac as far as he could, day in and day out, longingly hoping for a time when the bonds of her marriage would cease from keeping them apart. Well, he got what he wanted: she is single, but he soon will be without her for good.
A petite young man, Daniel retained a youthful façade despite just passing his 18th birthday: his soft features and unimposing physique was complemented by a sweet, almost submissive air to his personality, a combination that did not particularly resonate with the girls his age, but came in handy from time to time when guards were naturally let down in his presence, and this was sure to be one of those times. Watching her strain to lift the first of many boxes into the back of the truck, Daniel felt it best to put that caring nature of his into action, for it may be his last chance. Walking out his front door, he carefully approaches the back of the truck just as Lana is stepping out onto the street, visibly surprised to see him.
“Good morning Lana,” Daniel greets her, not wishing to be too formal but, due to circumstances, not wanting to use her soon-to-be former last name. “Beautiful day isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is Daniel,” she answers soberly, a subdued tone in her voice not wishing to betray the feeling of her life being untangled at the seams.
“I just came over to ask if you needed any help moving,” he says, catching a moment of relief on her face as her demeanor swiftly softens. Little imagination could be invested in understanding just how her “supportive” friends and family couldn’t find the time to give her a hand on their valuable Saturday morning, yet this young man could find the time in his busy life for someone he barely has any connection to, making his kind gesture that much more unexpected.
“That would be wonderful, thank you Daniel,” she answers, turning away, not wanting him to see the tears being wiped from her eyes.
The sounds of tearing tape echo through the slowly emptying hallway, as box towers slowly morph into box motels strewn throughout the house. Daniel couldn’t help but reflect of how little there was left to her name, nothing but a small moving van as the culmination of her young life thus far, and even with the house almost emptied, it was only half full at best. Surely there must have been more, lest her new house be just as empty and lonesome, he bemoaned.
Hoisting the final box into his arms, Daniel begins trekking out of the bedroom when, suddenly, his foot catches something wedged underneath the bedframe: a cream-colored chest, not much larger than a shoebox, protruding out enough as to almost be begging for someone’s attention. He sets down the box in his arms, knowing something so unique looking must contain that of immense personal value to Lana. Grasping it by the corners, he hoists the petite box up to his waist, shocked at the sheer weight of such a tiny package. So must the box have been too, for not three steps outside the room does the underside of the box tear open, spilling its contents across the hallway floor. However, his sudden instinct to collect its contents is suddenly usurped, as one glimpse of the mess has paralyzed the young man, turning him white as a sheet: bondage magazines, each adorned with cover pages featuring men and women alike in intricate binds, ropes, chains, and devices galore, the sources of which from around the globe in languages he couldn’t even recognize.
Daniel’s fascination with bondage knows no bounds, one which has followed him into young adulthood as intensely as ever. For hours on end, he would comb through internet pages, seeking out ways in which to satisfy his need without ever being able to experience it himself. Such fantasies frequently included his buxom neighbor Lana, always with the lament of believing they would never come to fruition. Now, faced with the prospect of another bondage lover in his midst, Daniel can do nothing to collect himself to finish her move.
“Daniel, did I hear a…” Lana stops midsentence, catching the sight of her private literature being strewn across the floor, ogled by her seemingly nosy neighbor. She runs up to the pile, attempting to both collect her belongings and hide their contents, each unsuccessfully if it may be pointed out. “Don’t you know not to look into people’s personal belongings?!” Her voice slightly cracks, attempting to hide her blushing cheeks as they suddenly slip out of her arms unto the floor, eliciting a grunt of frustration.
“I…I…um no…I…” he stutters, unable to make sense of the endless fantasies he has had of this moment finally coming to life. It is in this moment that, confronted by his sputtering speech, trembling figure, and obvious bulge underneath his jeans, she confirms exactly what he cannot say himself.
They talked, or at least Daniel did mostly, seated at the end of her mattress, going into detail their deepest fantasies. Though concerned of revealing so much to someone she had known since his preteen years, Lana slowly began feeling comfortable confiding to Daniel her fascination, his tender charm doing its magic. It is through this elongated chat that they reach an agreement: so long as this does not leave the house, Lana will take Daniel under her wing, demonstrating the years of experience she has garnered being a most-studious housewife to her former husband.
He lays on his stomach atop the carpet floor, waiting for her next move. Gently she opens the top drawer of her dresser, revealing a long coil of thick nylon rope. Lacing it through her fingers, she bends down behind the excited young man, taking his wrists into her hands as she prepares him for a hogtie.
“I do hope you’re flexible enough Daniel,” she goads, positioning his hands behind his back, crossed over one another as she laces the rope around his wrists, expertly making sure no circulation is cut off in the process.
“Flexibility was the only thing I was good at in gym,” he jokes, feeling the soft yet firm material encapsulates the entire circumference of his wrists. Bending his feet forward to his rear end, Lana does the exact to his ankles, a maximum of four coils of rope needed to secure him. In one motion, Lana wraps the final length of rope from his ankles through a small notch at his wrists, thus securing the hogtie. Though the excitement is making his heart almost beat out of his chest, Daniel does not say a word, hoping for Lana to reveal the extent of her prowess the likes of which he may never experience again.
“Now let’s just wrap the rest of this around you,” she speaks softly, gently lifting up his torso to thread a second length of rope underneath him. “We wouldn’t want you to get loose, now would we?”
“No, I guess NAHAHAHAT!” Daniel attempts a response, only to have a sharp pulsation of forced giggles escape him, the accidental brush of his side by Lana’s fingers enough to elicit such a terse response. He reactively jerks against the restraints, even in their unfinished state not letting him move more than an inch left or right, demonstrating her true expertise.
“What’s wrong?!” Lana exclaims, a mixture of surprise and suppressed delight in the tone of her voice as though she has made a tantalizing discovery.
“I’m sorry,” he reacts, trying to quell his laughter. “It’s just that…I’m REALLY ticklish.” The slight pause in his voice betrays his hesitation for divulging such sensitive information, but just as Lana was honest with him, so too does he feel obligated to be upfront with her, feeling truly safe and submissive in her possession.
“Is that so?” Lana moans, a slyly inquisitive tone making a shiver run down Daniel’s spine. “Well, we wouldn’t want you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with, now would we?” In two short minutes, she finishes the hogtie, having wrapped the final length around his upper arms and thighs, nullifying any peripheral movement. Daniel attempts to free himself, his only movement being to roll gently on his side, collapsing back unto his stomach only moments later. Little could he imagine the absolute joy he would feel that, having witnessed such intricate ropework behind a computer screen for so long, he would finally be able to experience it firsthand. Bending down, she whispers tenderly in his ear, his face becoming even more red after exerting himself.
“Now honey, where should we go next?” she asks, a tantalizing smile across his face.
“The bed,” he responds, not a moment of hesitation. “Spread eagle.” How long he has fantasized of being in that position: all four of his limbs bound to the four corners of her king-sized mattress (at least that is what he imagined), utterly under her complete control. It is only a subtle nod that she reciprocates, confirming his deepest fantasy will soon come to life.
Unbinding him, Lana swiftly prepares the bed for him, stripping it of all its ornamentations, preemptively lacing some more coils of rope taken from the closet around its four corners. Daniel look on in awe, feeling blessed having not only discovered his neighbor to be a bondage enthusiast like himself, but finding her to be an expert in her craft, watching each knot be cinched as though she were the head of the Boy Scouts. Just as she finishes, she turns towards the meek young man, a powerful posture in the way she places herself in such a position.
“Strip,” she commands, looking upon the growing hue of red on his face as she does. Had it not been for the fact that his jeans were at least partially quelling his erection, he would have immediately done what she said. However, still feeling the residual effect of hiding his fantasies for so long, Daniel is reluctant to become fully revealed, hesitating despite the control he has relinquished into her hands dictating his every move. “Don’t think I haven’t seen any of that before already: I was married you know. Now strip down to your boxers young man, or else I'll have to punish you.”
With that, he obeys her command to a tee: tossing his olive green t-shirt over his shoulders unto the floor, he unbuckles the belt on his waist, dropping his denim trousers to his ankles, leaving him in his deep blue boxer briefs. Having already removed his shoes, Daniel is left in nothing but his underwear and socks, as revealed as he has ever been in front of any woman apart from his own mother.
Placing himself atop the mattress, Lana gently pushes him back into its soft material, gazing intensely into his eyes in the process. One by one, taking each of his limbs into her soft hands, she stretches him across her bed, binding him taut across its length, his small form just barely able to reach each coil she has set out. Finishing the final knot on his left ankle, she circles him again, testing each coil, tightening each one when necessary.
“Comfortable?” she asks, laying just beside him, looking deep into his eyes, witnessing the flame of excitement, almost able to hear his pulsating heartbeat in his chest. Feeling a knot in his throat, he can only excitedly nod his head at her in confirmation. He only wished he could relieve his bulging erection, but given the amount of trust that has been placed in one another, he wishes to not even bring it up, detracting from that which they have already agreed upon.
“I have to say: it’s not everyday that someone would put themselves in such a…vulnerable position,” she says, twirling the tip of her finger across the soft fabric, a precarious three inches from his torso. Daniel looks at her a bit confused, not knowing why she would think he would see her as anything but the sweet neighbor he has known ever since he was a preteen, fully capable of being trusted no matter what position he is in.
“I mean, just what would happen if someone were to take advantage of your position like this, hmm?” she asks, punctuating her question with the eerie sound of her nails, scraping across the fabric, the friction making Daniel suddenly uneasy, but not knowing exactly why. “Like…what if someone, who didn’t know any better, came along…and did THIS?!” Suddenly, she thrusts her wriggling fingers into his hairless armpits, sending a shockwave through his body without warning.
“Whahahaha! No wait! Waihehehehehet!” Daniel tries to protest, only to dissolve into torrents of forced laughter. Her skittering nails traverse their way across his tender underarms, their smooth surface making it almost comically easy to torment him endlessly much to his dismay. Bucking against his restraints, Daniel realizes he is finding himself in the same ticklish predicament as before when hogtied, completely unable to escape. However, this time, there was no accident involved: she has him trapped, bound helpless with every inch of his flesh exposed for the taking, and there is nothing he can do about it. It had almost been destined for him to fall into her clutches, a fresh manicure the day prior leaving them ripe for a ravenous tickle torture. “Noooooohohohohohohoho! Not there! Not therehehehehehehe!”
“What’s wrong sweetie?” she asks, a devious smile encapsulating her face, not even glancing down as she slowly makes her way down his person, indulging in the smorgasbord of ticklish delights she has laid out for herself. “That doesn’t tickle does it?”
“Yahahahas it TICKLES!! WAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” a strained wail escapes his gullet as Lana lunges her fingers into his abdomen, lacing her digits in between the crevices of his stomach muscles. Daniel’s slim physique was to ultimately betray him this day: not only did he not have the muscle mass to struggle his way out of these bonds, but he also lacked the fat density to insulate him from such a ticklish assault, leaving him primed to be a perfect tickle victim for Lana’s devilish ways. “NOOOOOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHO DON’T!! PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE!!”
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” she taunts him, digging deep into his sides, pulsating up and down to his hips and back, not letting him rest for even a moment. His mouth agape, eyes wide as saucers, he has no choice but to experience the full frontal assault of her tickle torture, his mind going numb from such prolonged torments that have barely gone on thirty minutes. “You wanted me to tickle you, didn’t you?” Daniel, in his disheveled state, head thrashing side to side, can barely hear her over his hapless cries. Little could he fathom his neighbor, the one who would check in on him when his parents were away, would betray his trust: ensnaring him into her clutches, utilizing his greatest weakness against him, completely out of his free will.
“NOOOOOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOOOOOOO!!” he can barely vocalize amidst his endless cackles, as tears begin streaming down the sides of his face. Digging deep into the muscles of his thighs, Lana throws her head back in delight, savoring every moment she has with her ticklish little neighbor. No good deed goes unpunished, she surmises: his hopelessly trapped predicament, having every inch of his body ravaged by a true tickle sadist, is the only suitable reward for his good neighborly deeds. “I’M BEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEGING YOUUUUUUUUU!!”
“I’m sorry, what was that?” she teasingly calls out, cupping her ear as almost hard of hearing, still digging her thumbs into the gap of his legs he is trying so desperately to close, only to comically keep her hand stationary for more tickle torture. “You say you want me to tickle your feet?” A swift gasp of air is thrust into his lungs, the only thing he has room for as she repositions herself for maximum tickling effect. Placing herself at the end of the bed, she takes hold of the tips of his socks and, in one fell swoop, peels them swiftly off his feet, tossing them across the room. His naked soles, not one callous or scratch on them, are but a blank canvas in which Lana can paint a laughter-induced masterpiece.
“Please…stop…” he can barely squeak out, a mixture of breathlessness and total defeat straining his voice. It had slowly dawned on him that this may have been her intention all along: lulling him into a false sense of security, waiting for the point when she could make her move, ensnaring the poor creature for her sadistic delights.
“Well, because you asked so nicely,” she says sweetly, pretending as though she is going to release him from his bonds. “NAH!” She lunges her nails deep into the flesh of Daniel’s soles, making his entire body gyrate as much as it can, accompanied by a scream of absolute hapless torment.
“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA!!” His true Achilles heel as she might say, being exploited right in front of his tear-drenched eyes, all while he is pathetically subdued from protesting in any manner whatsoever.
“NOT THE FEET!! NAHAHAHAHAT THE FEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHET!!” he wails, his distressed state failing to recognize the pleasure Lana derives from making him say such silly things, as though she would be swayed away from such a ticklish target, rather than drawn to his silky soft soles underneath her sharpened nails.
“Silly boy!” she exclaims, making sure he knows just how much joy she is getting from throwing him into greater depths of tickle hell. “That’ll only make me tickle you even more!” She can barely contain herself, making sure she gets into ever crease and crevice of his flapping feet, her binds making sure he has little to no leverage to resist her.
“STAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!” he shrieks, throwing his head back in forced ticklish mirth, unable to cope with the swell of overstimulation coursing through each one of his nerve endings.
“No, I don’t think I will,” she coos at him like a parent would their infant child, looking on at his pathetically ticklish state with utter delight. How he thrashes about, desperately attempting to free himself from his inescapable bonds. He should have known better than to try and escape, as she had introduced him to her tying expertise beforehand, making his fate that much more secure. Slipping her nails underneath his toes, she finally tests the true steadfastness of her bonds much to his utter chagrin.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!” he cries, dissolving into strained silent laughter, the horror befalling him as her nimble fingers invade his flailing toes. His muscles bulge, once again attempting to free himself, bucking wildly only to fall back into the plush material. Scraping into their undersides, ravaging every inch of their helpless form, he is left completely immersed in a ticklish hell beyond belief. It is only ten minutes later that she ceases, gazing upon his sweat-drenched form, chest heaving up and down, completely broken underneath her wicked fingertips. She approaches him, gazing in the same manner as she had done previous to wrecking his world.
“Oh, I’m so sorry sweetie,” she says tenderly, caressing his moistened cheek with her loving touch, attempting to console the crying baby before her. “I had no idea I was being so hard on you. I just hope you can forgive me.” Having been pushed over the edge, Daniel is far from accepting such a half-hearted apology. Besides, who could tell from just her words alone whether she was being truly genuine or just setting another trap waiting to be sprung. However, by the way in which she is tracing the tip of her finger atop the elastic of his boxer shorts, it seems she has a different surprise in store for Daniel this time.
“Well, let’s see if I can make it up to you,” reaching into his boxer shorts, she comes out wielding his throbbing cock, the head turned wet from the building precum over what has amounted to countless moments of grueling tickle torture. Despite such aversion to it, his erection had nonetheless persisted, betraying his mind by only responding to the bondage of which it has craved. Now, that which he had hoped to suppress from her gaze is revealed, right in front of her eyes.
Carefully she begins stroking it, a masterful wielding of his penis as his panting breaths slowly morph into desperate moans. Thrusting his hips upward, he is helpless against the building tension as his sexual arousal has been in limbo until now. How he had dreamt of this moment, embarrassed to even confess to her the seemingly juvenile hope he had for their time together culminating in a happy ending. Rolling his eyes back into his head, groaning that which may have been heard from down the street, he finally climaxes the first time in front of his longtime crush no less, spilling his seed all across his stomach and chest.
“Better?” she tenderly asks, casually wiping her hand atop the soft bed fabric. With such exhaustion, he has only the energy to gently nod his head, seeming as though he had forgiven her for what she put him through. Unfortunately, his ordeal would be far from over.
“Good boy” is the only thing she said before thrusting her fingertips into his hips, throwing him back into a maelstrom of ticklish torment. How foolish he was, thinking it was merely the charity of someone who put him in this position in the first place. Little did he know how much more sensitive he would become post-orgasm, of how every inch of his body seems to have light up like a Christmas tree, his cascading laughter and hapless shrieks echoing through the emptied house with renewed fervor as though the hours beforehand meant nothing. Just as soon as it began, Daniel found himself swiftly falling out of consciousness, the sound of his strained cackles the very last thing he remembers…
His eyes slowly peel open, feeling himself standing by what is definitely not of free will. Little by little, he makes sense of his surroundings: the red carpet and painted black walls, illuminated by candlelight, send a rush of fear overwhelming his senses. Cuffed wrist and ankle to a padded x-frame, he feels even more vulnerable than ever before. Streams of drool cascade down his chin unto his bare chest, a bright red ball gag shoved between his teeth, gazing about at mere shadows that hide a dungeon of hellish design. Suddenly, the creaking of hinges directs him attention to Lana, shutting the door gently behind her.
“You might have thought my husband didn’t leave me anything, but that’s not true,” she teases, approaching Daniel ever so seductively. “It was I who stole this from him: all of it, all mine to share with whomever I desire.”
“MMMMMMPHRRRRR?!” his gurgled speech falls flat, reduced to tatters as he attempts to plead for his freedom.
“I’m so grateful for your help this weekend Daniel, it’s been so long since I’ve had a visitor down here. Since these walls are soundproofed, we can make all the noise we want...and by we, I mean you.”
He bounces on the balls of his feet, confirming exactly what he knows: there is even less leverage than on the bed, making his potential escape that much more futile.
“Oh, and don’t worry about going to school this Monday,” she tells him, a wash of confusion and panic over him. “I told them you had a bad cold and weren’t sure when you’d be back. So we can have all the time in the world to get…acquainted with one another. How does that sound? Good? That's what I thought...”
The End
A petite young man, Daniel retained a youthful façade despite just passing his 18th birthday: his soft features and unimposing physique was complemented by a sweet, almost submissive air to his personality, a combination that did not particularly resonate with the girls his age, but came in handy from time to time when guards were naturally let down in his presence, and this was sure to be one of those times. Watching her strain to lift the first of many boxes into the back of the truck, Daniel felt it best to put that caring nature of his into action, for it may be his last chance. Walking out his front door, he carefully approaches the back of the truck just as Lana is stepping out onto the street, visibly surprised to see him.
“Good morning Lana,” Daniel greets her, not wishing to be too formal but, due to circumstances, not wanting to use her soon-to-be former last name. “Beautiful day isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is Daniel,” she answers soberly, a subdued tone in her voice not wishing to betray the feeling of her life being untangled at the seams.
“I just came over to ask if you needed any help moving,” he says, catching a moment of relief on her face as her demeanor swiftly softens. Little imagination could be invested in understanding just how her “supportive” friends and family couldn’t find the time to give her a hand on their valuable Saturday morning, yet this young man could find the time in his busy life for someone he barely has any connection to, making his kind gesture that much more unexpected.
“That would be wonderful, thank you Daniel,” she answers, turning away, not wanting him to see the tears being wiped from her eyes.
The sounds of tearing tape echo through the slowly emptying hallway, as box towers slowly morph into box motels strewn throughout the house. Daniel couldn’t help but reflect of how little there was left to her name, nothing but a small moving van as the culmination of her young life thus far, and even with the house almost emptied, it was only half full at best. Surely there must have been more, lest her new house be just as empty and lonesome, he bemoaned.
Hoisting the final box into his arms, Daniel begins trekking out of the bedroom when, suddenly, his foot catches something wedged underneath the bedframe: a cream-colored chest, not much larger than a shoebox, protruding out enough as to almost be begging for someone’s attention. He sets down the box in his arms, knowing something so unique looking must contain that of immense personal value to Lana. Grasping it by the corners, he hoists the petite box up to his waist, shocked at the sheer weight of such a tiny package. So must the box have been too, for not three steps outside the room does the underside of the box tear open, spilling its contents across the hallway floor. However, his sudden instinct to collect its contents is suddenly usurped, as one glimpse of the mess has paralyzed the young man, turning him white as a sheet: bondage magazines, each adorned with cover pages featuring men and women alike in intricate binds, ropes, chains, and devices galore, the sources of which from around the globe in languages he couldn’t even recognize.
Daniel’s fascination with bondage knows no bounds, one which has followed him into young adulthood as intensely as ever. For hours on end, he would comb through internet pages, seeking out ways in which to satisfy his need without ever being able to experience it himself. Such fantasies frequently included his buxom neighbor Lana, always with the lament of believing they would never come to fruition. Now, faced with the prospect of another bondage lover in his midst, Daniel can do nothing to collect himself to finish her move.
“Daniel, did I hear a…” Lana stops midsentence, catching the sight of her private literature being strewn across the floor, ogled by her seemingly nosy neighbor. She runs up to the pile, attempting to both collect her belongings and hide their contents, each unsuccessfully if it may be pointed out. “Don’t you know not to look into people’s personal belongings?!” Her voice slightly cracks, attempting to hide her blushing cheeks as they suddenly slip out of her arms unto the floor, eliciting a grunt of frustration.
“I…I…um no…I…” he stutters, unable to make sense of the endless fantasies he has had of this moment finally coming to life. It is in this moment that, confronted by his sputtering speech, trembling figure, and obvious bulge underneath his jeans, she confirms exactly what he cannot say himself.
They talked, or at least Daniel did mostly, seated at the end of her mattress, going into detail their deepest fantasies. Though concerned of revealing so much to someone she had known since his preteen years, Lana slowly began feeling comfortable confiding to Daniel her fascination, his tender charm doing its magic. It is through this elongated chat that they reach an agreement: so long as this does not leave the house, Lana will take Daniel under her wing, demonstrating the years of experience she has garnered being a most-studious housewife to her former husband.
He lays on his stomach atop the carpet floor, waiting for her next move. Gently she opens the top drawer of her dresser, revealing a long coil of thick nylon rope. Lacing it through her fingers, she bends down behind the excited young man, taking his wrists into her hands as she prepares him for a hogtie.
“I do hope you’re flexible enough Daniel,” she goads, positioning his hands behind his back, crossed over one another as she laces the rope around his wrists, expertly making sure no circulation is cut off in the process.
“Flexibility was the only thing I was good at in gym,” he jokes, feeling the soft yet firm material encapsulates the entire circumference of his wrists. Bending his feet forward to his rear end, Lana does the exact to his ankles, a maximum of four coils of rope needed to secure him. In one motion, Lana wraps the final length of rope from his ankles through a small notch at his wrists, thus securing the hogtie. Though the excitement is making his heart almost beat out of his chest, Daniel does not say a word, hoping for Lana to reveal the extent of her prowess the likes of which he may never experience again.
“Now let’s just wrap the rest of this around you,” she speaks softly, gently lifting up his torso to thread a second length of rope underneath him. “We wouldn’t want you to get loose, now would we?”
“No, I guess NAHAHAHAT!” Daniel attempts a response, only to have a sharp pulsation of forced giggles escape him, the accidental brush of his side by Lana’s fingers enough to elicit such a terse response. He reactively jerks against the restraints, even in their unfinished state not letting him move more than an inch left or right, demonstrating her true expertise.
“What’s wrong?!” Lana exclaims, a mixture of surprise and suppressed delight in the tone of her voice as though she has made a tantalizing discovery.
“I’m sorry,” he reacts, trying to quell his laughter. “It’s just that…I’m REALLY ticklish.” The slight pause in his voice betrays his hesitation for divulging such sensitive information, but just as Lana was honest with him, so too does he feel obligated to be upfront with her, feeling truly safe and submissive in her possession.
“Is that so?” Lana moans, a slyly inquisitive tone making a shiver run down Daniel’s spine. “Well, we wouldn’t want you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with, now would we?” In two short minutes, she finishes the hogtie, having wrapped the final length around his upper arms and thighs, nullifying any peripheral movement. Daniel attempts to free himself, his only movement being to roll gently on his side, collapsing back unto his stomach only moments later. Little could he imagine the absolute joy he would feel that, having witnessed such intricate ropework behind a computer screen for so long, he would finally be able to experience it firsthand. Bending down, she whispers tenderly in his ear, his face becoming even more red after exerting himself.
“Now honey, where should we go next?” she asks, a tantalizing smile across his face.
“The bed,” he responds, not a moment of hesitation. “Spread eagle.” How long he has fantasized of being in that position: all four of his limbs bound to the four corners of her king-sized mattress (at least that is what he imagined), utterly under her complete control. It is only a subtle nod that she reciprocates, confirming his deepest fantasy will soon come to life.
Unbinding him, Lana swiftly prepares the bed for him, stripping it of all its ornamentations, preemptively lacing some more coils of rope taken from the closet around its four corners. Daniel look on in awe, feeling blessed having not only discovered his neighbor to be a bondage enthusiast like himself, but finding her to be an expert in her craft, watching each knot be cinched as though she were the head of the Boy Scouts. Just as she finishes, she turns towards the meek young man, a powerful posture in the way she places herself in such a position.
“Strip,” she commands, looking upon the growing hue of red on his face as she does. Had it not been for the fact that his jeans were at least partially quelling his erection, he would have immediately done what she said. However, still feeling the residual effect of hiding his fantasies for so long, Daniel is reluctant to become fully revealed, hesitating despite the control he has relinquished into her hands dictating his every move. “Don’t think I haven’t seen any of that before already: I was married you know. Now strip down to your boxers young man, or else I'll have to punish you.”
With that, he obeys her command to a tee: tossing his olive green t-shirt over his shoulders unto the floor, he unbuckles the belt on his waist, dropping his denim trousers to his ankles, leaving him in his deep blue boxer briefs. Having already removed his shoes, Daniel is left in nothing but his underwear and socks, as revealed as he has ever been in front of any woman apart from his own mother.
Placing himself atop the mattress, Lana gently pushes him back into its soft material, gazing intensely into his eyes in the process. One by one, taking each of his limbs into her soft hands, she stretches him across her bed, binding him taut across its length, his small form just barely able to reach each coil she has set out. Finishing the final knot on his left ankle, she circles him again, testing each coil, tightening each one when necessary.
“Comfortable?” she asks, laying just beside him, looking deep into his eyes, witnessing the flame of excitement, almost able to hear his pulsating heartbeat in his chest. Feeling a knot in his throat, he can only excitedly nod his head at her in confirmation. He only wished he could relieve his bulging erection, but given the amount of trust that has been placed in one another, he wishes to not even bring it up, detracting from that which they have already agreed upon.
“I have to say: it’s not everyday that someone would put themselves in such a…vulnerable position,” she says, twirling the tip of her finger across the soft fabric, a precarious three inches from his torso. Daniel looks at her a bit confused, not knowing why she would think he would see her as anything but the sweet neighbor he has known ever since he was a preteen, fully capable of being trusted no matter what position he is in.
“I mean, just what would happen if someone were to take advantage of your position like this, hmm?” she asks, punctuating her question with the eerie sound of her nails, scraping across the fabric, the friction making Daniel suddenly uneasy, but not knowing exactly why. “Like…what if someone, who didn’t know any better, came along…and did THIS?!” Suddenly, she thrusts her wriggling fingers into his hairless armpits, sending a shockwave through his body without warning.
“Whahahaha! No wait! Waihehehehehet!” Daniel tries to protest, only to dissolve into torrents of forced laughter. Her skittering nails traverse their way across his tender underarms, their smooth surface making it almost comically easy to torment him endlessly much to his dismay. Bucking against his restraints, Daniel realizes he is finding himself in the same ticklish predicament as before when hogtied, completely unable to escape. However, this time, there was no accident involved: she has him trapped, bound helpless with every inch of his flesh exposed for the taking, and there is nothing he can do about it. It had almost been destined for him to fall into her clutches, a fresh manicure the day prior leaving them ripe for a ravenous tickle torture. “Noooooohohohohohohoho! Not there! Not therehehehehehehe!”
“What’s wrong sweetie?” she asks, a devious smile encapsulating her face, not even glancing down as she slowly makes her way down his person, indulging in the smorgasbord of ticklish delights she has laid out for herself. “That doesn’t tickle does it?”
“Yahahahas it TICKLES!! WAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” a strained wail escapes his gullet as Lana lunges her fingers into his abdomen, lacing her digits in between the crevices of his stomach muscles. Daniel’s slim physique was to ultimately betray him this day: not only did he not have the muscle mass to struggle his way out of these bonds, but he also lacked the fat density to insulate him from such a ticklish assault, leaving him primed to be a perfect tickle victim for Lana’s devilish ways. “NOOOOOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHO DON’T!! PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE!!”
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” she taunts him, digging deep into his sides, pulsating up and down to his hips and back, not letting him rest for even a moment. His mouth agape, eyes wide as saucers, he has no choice but to experience the full frontal assault of her tickle torture, his mind going numb from such prolonged torments that have barely gone on thirty minutes. “You wanted me to tickle you, didn’t you?” Daniel, in his disheveled state, head thrashing side to side, can barely hear her over his hapless cries. Little could he fathom his neighbor, the one who would check in on him when his parents were away, would betray his trust: ensnaring him into her clutches, utilizing his greatest weakness against him, completely out of his free will.
“NOOOOOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOOOOOOO!!” he can barely vocalize amidst his endless cackles, as tears begin streaming down the sides of his face. Digging deep into the muscles of his thighs, Lana throws her head back in delight, savoring every moment she has with her ticklish little neighbor. No good deed goes unpunished, she surmises: his hopelessly trapped predicament, having every inch of his body ravaged by a true tickle sadist, is the only suitable reward for his good neighborly deeds. “I’M BEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEGING YOUUUUUUUUU!!”
“I’m sorry, what was that?” she teasingly calls out, cupping her ear as almost hard of hearing, still digging her thumbs into the gap of his legs he is trying so desperately to close, only to comically keep her hand stationary for more tickle torture. “You say you want me to tickle your feet?” A swift gasp of air is thrust into his lungs, the only thing he has room for as she repositions herself for maximum tickling effect. Placing herself at the end of the bed, she takes hold of the tips of his socks and, in one fell swoop, peels them swiftly off his feet, tossing them across the room. His naked soles, not one callous or scratch on them, are but a blank canvas in which Lana can paint a laughter-induced masterpiece.
“Please…stop…” he can barely squeak out, a mixture of breathlessness and total defeat straining his voice. It had slowly dawned on him that this may have been her intention all along: lulling him into a false sense of security, waiting for the point when she could make her move, ensnaring the poor creature for her sadistic delights.
“Well, because you asked so nicely,” she says sweetly, pretending as though she is going to release him from his bonds. “NAH!” She lunges her nails deep into the flesh of Daniel’s soles, making his entire body gyrate as much as it can, accompanied by a scream of absolute hapless torment.
“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA!!” His true Achilles heel as she might say, being exploited right in front of his tear-drenched eyes, all while he is pathetically subdued from protesting in any manner whatsoever.
“NOT THE FEET!! NAHAHAHAHAT THE FEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHET!!” he wails, his distressed state failing to recognize the pleasure Lana derives from making him say such silly things, as though she would be swayed away from such a ticklish target, rather than drawn to his silky soft soles underneath her sharpened nails.
“Silly boy!” she exclaims, making sure he knows just how much joy she is getting from throwing him into greater depths of tickle hell. “That’ll only make me tickle you even more!” She can barely contain herself, making sure she gets into ever crease and crevice of his flapping feet, her binds making sure he has little to no leverage to resist her.
“STAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!” he shrieks, throwing his head back in forced ticklish mirth, unable to cope with the swell of overstimulation coursing through each one of his nerve endings.
“No, I don’t think I will,” she coos at him like a parent would their infant child, looking on at his pathetically ticklish state with utter delight. How he thrashes about, desperately attempting to free himself from his inescapable bonds. He should have known better than to try and escape, as she had introduced him to her tying expertise beforehand, making his fate that much more secure. Slipping her nails underneath his toes, she finally tests the true steadfastness of her bonds much to his utter chagrin.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!” he cries, dissolving into strained silent laughter, the horror befalling him as her nimble fingers invade his flailing toes. His muscles bulge, once again attempting to free himself, bucking wildly only to fall back into the plush material. Scraping into their undersides, ravaging every inch of their helpless form, he is left completely immersed in a ticklish hell beyond belief. It is only ten minutes later that she ceases, gazing upon his sweat-drenched form, chest heaving up and down, completely broken underneath her wicked fingertips. She approaches him, gazing in the same manner as she had done previous to wrecking his world.
“Oh, I’m so sorry sweetie,” she says tenderly, caressing his moistened cheek with her loving touch, attempting to console the crying baby before her. “I had no idea I was being so hard on you. I just hope you can forgive me.” Having been pushed over the edge, Daniel is far from accepting such a half-hearted apology. Besides, who could tell from just her words alone whether she was being truly genuine or just setting another trap waiting to be sprung. However, by the way in which she is tracing the tip of her finger atop the elastic of his boxer shorts, it seems she has a different surprise in store for Daniel this time.
“Well, let’s see if I can make it up to you,” reaching into his boxer shorts, she comes out wielding his throbbing cock, the head turned wet from the building precum over what has amounted to countless moments of grueling tickle torture. Despite such aversion to it, his erection had nonetheless persisted, betraying his mind by only responding to the bondage of which it has craved. Now, that which he had hoped to suppress from her gaze is revealed, right in front of her eyes.
Carefully she begins stroking it, a masterful wielding of his penis as his panting breaths slowly morph into desperate moans. Thrusting his hips upward, he is helpless against the building tension as his sexual arousal has been in limbo until now. How he had dreamt of this moment, embarrassed to even confess to her the seemingly juvenile hope he had for their time together culminating in a happy ending. Rolling his eyes back into his head, groaning that which may have been heard from down the street, he finally climaxes the first time in front of his longtime crush no less, spilling his seed all across his stomach and chest.
“Better?” she tenderly asks, casually wiping her hand atop the soft bed fabric. With such exhaustion, he has only the energy to gently nod his head, seeming as though he had forgiven her for what she put him through. Unfortunately, his ordeal would be far from over.
“Good boy” is the only thing she said before thrusting her fingertips into his hips, throwing him back into a maelstrom of ticklish torment. How foolish he was, thinking it was merely the charity of someone who put him in this position in the first place. Little did he know how much more sensitive he would become post-orgasm, of how every inch of his body seems to have light up like a Christmas tree, his cascading laughter and hapless shrieks echoing through the emptied house with renewed fervor as though the hours beforehand meant nothing. Just as soon as it began, Daniel found himself swiftly falling out of consciousness, the sound of his strained cackles the very last thing he remembers…
His eyes slowly peel open, feeling himself standing by what is definitely not of free will. Little by little, he makes sense of his surroundings: the red carpet and painted black walls, illuminated by candlelight, send a rush of fear overwhelming his senses. Cuffed wrist and ankle to a padded x-frame, he feels even more vulnerable than ever before. Streams of drool cascade down his chin unto his bare chest, a bright red ball gag shoved between his teeth, gazing about at mere shadows that hide a dungeon of hellish design. Suddenly, the creaking of hinges directs him attention to Lana, shutting the door gently behind her.
“You might have thought my husband didn’t leave me anything, but that’s not true,” she teases, approaching Daniel ever so seductively. “It was I who stole this from him: all of it, all mine to share with whomever I desire.”
“MMMMMMPHRRRRR?!” his gurgled speech falls flat, reduced to tatters as he attempts to plead for his freedom.
“I’m so grateful for your help this weekend Daniel, it’s been so long since I’ve had a visitor down here. Since these walls are soundproofed, we can make all the noise we want...and by we, I mean you.”
He bounces on the balls of his feet, confirming exactly what he knows: there is even less leverage than on the bed, making his potential escape that much more futile.
“Oh, and don’t worry about going to school this Monday,” she tells him, a wash of confusion and panic over him. “I told them you had a bad cold and weren’t sure when you’d be back. So we can have all the time in the world to get…acquainted with one another. How does that sound? Good? That's what I thought...”
The End
