The Provocation (FF/m)

This story won the 2003 Golden Feather Award for the best nonfiction story of the year. I would like to thank Mistress Zara and Mistress Kassandra for making that possible.

This is a nonfiction account of a roleplay session with Mistress Zara and Mistress Kassandra. The session took place in June 2003. All of the participants were over 21 years of age.

This is an F/m story with descriptions of domination and foot worship as well as tickle torture. It contains some adult material. If any of this might offend you, then don't read it.

The Provocation (FF/m)
by Milagros

Part One
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I am waiting on my hands and knees in the Red Room of the dungeon, in eager anticipation. In today's roleplay, I have the role of a schoolboy, Mistress Zara of my classmate, and Mistress Kassandra of my older sister, six years older than I am. (In actual fact, I am in my 50's and both Mistresses are in their 20's.) The scene is a Saturday morning at our house, with our parents away, and my friend from school visiting.

Mistresses Zara and Kassandra enter and greet me. Not yet in characgter, Mistress Kassandra warns me that it's one thing to have a fantasy and write a script, and quite another to endure it in real life. She tells me that she intends to deliver in full measure, and is not sure that I can take it.

I am wearing my underwear, unusual for a session, because it is called for in the script. Mistress Kassandra sits on the couch, takes her sandals off, and picks up the copy of "Natural History" magazine that I've brought. She now curls up on the couch, bare feet exposed, pretending to be entirely engrossed in reading. She's wearing a short skirt. Pale blue polish on her toenails goes well with her gleaming black hair. Mistress Zara, also in a short skirt, has gorgeous red hair, and pink polish on her toenails.

Mistress Zara assumes her role as my classmate, visiting my house that morning. She whispers in my ear.

"Go over there quietly, sneak up on your sister, and tickle her feet. Do it!"

Under this provocation, I can't resist. I crawl quietly over to the couch, advancing slowly. Still engrossed in the magazine, Kassandra doesn't notice my approach. I extend a finger, and run it the length of her lovely bare sole.

"Cut that out!" she yells at me.

But I don't obey; instead I scrabble all ten fingers across both of her soles. She laughs and pulls her feet away from me.

"Now you're going to get it, little brother."

In a second, she pounces on me from the couch. She is sitting on my back, as I lie face down on the floor. (Actually, on a cofortable mat placed in front of the couch before we began.)

"Zara, get me the clothesline from the garage," says Kassandra, "because I need to teach this little brat a lesson."

As Zara goes away, Kassandra addresses me.

"The nerve of you! You're not even allowed to come into my room, much less sneak up on me and tickle me. How dare you? I'm going to strip you naked, just to humiliate you in front of your friend."

She shifts her position, but is still sitting on me, as she tears off my undershirt. Then she moves again, and pulls down my underpants. Zara returns and sees her pull them off. Both women are laughing at me.

"Wow, you stripped him!" Zara exclaims, as she hands over several ropes, which she has gotten from the supply cabinet.

Kassandra grabs my wrists and ties them together securely, as Zara taunts me.

"You're naked! I'm going to tell everybody at school that I saw you naked."

She crouches down to taunt me face to face, as Kassandra now grabs my ankles and ties them together very securely. With Zara's help, I am soon in a classic hogtie, on my belly with wrists and ankles bound together above me, behind my back.

"There's something that you should know about my brother, Zara. He's ticklish. Extremely ticklish."

A look sadistic delight is in her green eyes, as she asks "Where is he ticklish?"

"Everywhere!" answers Kassandra. "And with our parents in the Hamptons for the weekend, we have lots of time to explore his whole body."

Her dark brown eyes also gleam with delight at the prospect of exploiting my helpless position.

Kassandra grabs my ankles with one hand, and rakes the soles of my feet with the long fingernails of her other hand. Zara attacks my collarbones with her long fingernails--she knows from experience how very ticklish I am there. I laugh and laugh, and struggle in the ropes. But Kassandra is a professional, and has tied me very securely indeed. As they both keep tickling, Kassandra taunts me.

"Tickle, tickle, tickle, little brother. This is such fun! Tickle, tickle, tickle. And you deserve it, you really do. Tickle, tickle, tickle. You know that my room is private. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Sneaking in and tickling my feet is outrageous! Tickle, tickle, tickle. Now you're in for it. Tickle, tickle, tickle. I don't see why I should ever stop tickling you--it's too much fun to stop. Tickle, tickle, tickle. This is just what you deserve, you little brat! Tickle, tickle, tickle. We'll never stop! We'll tickle you insane. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Such a ticklish little boy! Tickle, tickle, tickle. Zara, could you go to the bathroom and get some toothbrushes?"

Kassandra switches to tickling my ribs, as Zara goes to my own bag of toys and returns with two toothbrushes, one of them electric. As Kassandra digs into my ribs on both sides, I howl with laughter. When Zara pokes the ordinary toothbrush into my armpit, I shriek.

"Oh, that really gets to him," says Kassandra. "Keep it up! Poke him right under the arm. That's good."

During her encouragement to Zara, she never stops kneeding my ribcage, driving me mad. As I howl and thrash, but can't escape, Zara decides that it's her turn to taunt me.

"I'm going to tell all the girls at school what a ticlish baby you are! Tickle, tickle, tickle. We'll gang up on you at recess, and tickle you in the schoolyard. Tickle, tickle, tickle, little baby! Every day at school, from now on. Tickle, tickle, tickle."

Kassandra has taken the electric toothbrush, and is now near my feet, using it between my toes. The effect is devastating. As I laugh helplessly, she takes over the taunting.

"You asked for this, little brat. Tickle, tickle, tickle. By sneaking into my room and tickling me, this is just what you asked for. Tickle, tickle, tickle. You really deserve it. Tickle, tickle, tickle. I've waited for this chance, with our parents away. Tickle, tickle, tickle. I've wanted to do this to you for a long time. Tickle, tickle, tickle. You gave me the opportunity, and now I've got you. Tickle, tickle, tickle. No parents here to protect you. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Just your friend and I, to tickle you endlessly. Tickle, tickle, tickle. So we may just tickle you forever! Tickle, tickle, tickle."

"I want to take some pictures, to show all the girls at school. To show them that he's a naked little ticklish baby, all tied up!" says Zara.

"Sure," says Kassandra, "there's a camera in my parents' room. Go get it."

Zara gets my camera, and takes a picture of Kassandra tickling me. Then Kassandra decides to use me as a throne, sitting on the soles of my feet, with her feet resting on my neck. Zara takes a picture of that, too, and then they change places. Zara uses me as a throne, and Kassandra snaps the photo.

"With these pictures we can blackmail him into letting us do this every time your parents are away," says Zara.

"Yes, and they spend every weekend in the Hamptons in the summer," says Kassandra.

They both laugh at the prospect of tickling me every weekend, and they resume tickling me right then. Zara takes the electric toothbrush, and tickles me on and between my toes. Kassandra comes over to my face, and scrabbles her nails all over my collarbones. Her long dark hair tickles my nose as it flies about. She stares down at me, and I manage to speak in between gales of laughter. I get out one word, "Mercy."

Kassandra looks deep into my eyes as she responds.

"Mercy? We don't even know the meaning of that word in this house. Tickle, tickle, tickle. What you'll get here is more tickling. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Endless tickling. Tickle, tickle, tickle. We'll tickle you until your sides ache. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Until you're blue in the face. Tickle, tickle, tickle. We'll never stop! Tickle, tickle, tickle. We'll keep on tickling you until ... "

She is interrupted by a knock on the door of the Red Room. Zara goes to see who it is, and two more mistresses enter the room.

"It's two girls who live next door," explains Zara. "They heard a lot of laughing, and they came over to see what's going on here."

"It's just my little brat of a brother," says Kassandra to the newcomers, "and we're teaching him a lesson. He had the nerve to tickle my bare feet. So we're tickling him as punishment. Would you like to help?"

They eagerly agree, and soon I'm being tickled by 40 moving fingers. I howl and shriek with new energy as all of them tickle and tickle, grinning in joy at my helpless state. They soon have me reduced to a quivering lump of ticklish flesh, hardly able to struggle under their attentions. They tickle and tickle, and every moment seems like an eternity to me.

"I can't get at his underarms well enough," says Zara, although she is doing quite a good job poking the toothbrush into one of them.

"Then let's change his position, and stretch him out," suggests Kassandra.

"But let's leave his ankles tied as we move him," says Zara, "so he has no chance to run away."

"With four of us here, he couldn't get away anyway," says Kassandra.

They untie the rope holding my ankles to my wrists, and then untie my wrists. All four of them are looking down at me, daring me to try to get away. I am wise enough to make no such attempt, and to stay silent. Kassandra and Zara flip me over onto my back, and Kassamdra holds my arms as Zara ties my wrists together again, this time stretched up over my head. My bound wrists are then tied to a leg of the heavy bondage table, and my bound ankles to a leg of the couch. I am stretched out, naked, more exposed than before.

Kassandra takes the camera, and tells the other three to resume tickling me. She takes a photo of it, and then joins them, so once again there are 40 fingers tickling me at the same time. As it drives me mad, she stares deep into my eyes and taunts me.

"Isn't my little brother cute when he's all tied up and helpless? Tickle, tickle, tickle. This is the only way that I like the little brat--completely helpless, in bondage. Tickle, tickle, tickle. He's so cute this way, and so vulnerable. Tickle, tickle, tickle. We'll keep him tied up all weekend. Tickle, tickle, tickle. That's the way you should be, little brat! Tickle, tickle, tickle. Such a ticklish little baby boy! Tickle, tickle, tickle. But you are making too much noise. Tickle, tickle, tickle. We don't want to attract the attention of anybody else. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Does anybody have a sweaty, grimy sock to use as a gag? Tickle, tickle, tickle, little helpless baby boy! Tickle, tickle, tickle."

I would love to have the taste of Mistress Zara's sweaty sock in my mouth, but it is a hot day, and she, now barefoot, wore sandals. So did Kassandra herself, and the other two mistresses are wearing stockings. With no sock available, Zara gets an Ace bandage from my bag of toys, and uses it as a gag, wrapping it around my head and tying it in place.

My laughter is now muffled. Zara, delighted that my arms are stretch over my head, is digging into both of my armpits. The two guests are ticking my ribs and thighs. Kassandra is raking my soles with her fingernails, and again speaking to me.

"Tickle, tickle, tickle. Quiet now, aren't you, little brat? Tickle, tickle, tickle. Usually you have a big mouth, and you talk back to me all the time. Tickle, tickle, tickle. It's nice to have you gagged. Tickle, tickle, tickle. And very nice to have you helpless, utterly helpless. Tickle, tickle, tickle. You're never going to tickle me again, do you hear? Tickle, tickle, tickle. Never! And your dear friend Zara and I are going to tickle you often. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Is that clear to you? Or copies of these pictures will be all over your school. Tickle, tickle, tickle. You're going to be our tickle toy, from now on. Tickle, tickle, tickle. We're going to tickle you insane."

All four of them keep tickling me furiously, and I am exhausted. I'm sweating a lot, and my back is stuck to the floor mat. My diaphragm aches from laughing so much, and my armpits are red and sore. Kassandra has moved up to my hip bones. She has been digging in, and has found me to be quite ticklish there also. Just when I think I can't bear it any longer, the two guests get up to leave. Kassandra and Zara thank them for joining our session, and remove my gag, so I can thank them, too. But Zara and Kassandra keep right on tickling me.

"It's your job," says Kassandra, "to see that he gets gang tickled every day at school, during recess and during lunch period."

"Sure," says Zara, "I'll tell all the girls at school."

"And I'll tie him up and tickle him every day after school, before our parents come home from work."

"And I can come over every weekend, with your parents in the Hamptons?"

"Of course! Every weekend. And don't forget summer camp. This year I'll be a counselor there. We can keep him prisoner in a cabin in the girls' camp. I can get the other counselors to agree to it. We'll tickle torture him all summer long, and hundreds of girls at the camp will help us and join in."

They never stop tickling me, never for a moment, as they plan my future torment. I am in tickle agony, as Kassandra now sits on my chest, tickling my collarbones, and Zara sits on my legs, tickling my soles. I manage to speak, looking up at Kassandra's beautiful face.

"Oh, Kassandra, what a gleam of sadistic joy you have in your eyes."

Kassandra laughs, and asks Zara to document it. Zara gets the camera again, and takes a shot of Kassandra's gleeful face, as she sits on me and tickles my collarbones.

I am clearly utterly exhausted, covered with sweat, quivering helplessly, tickled senseless. Kassandra looks at her watch.

"It's been forty minutes of tickling. He's had enough of it. But it's also time for the rest of his punishment."

She gets off my chest, and the two of them untie me.

[to be continued in this thread]

Part Two

Part Two
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Kassandra leaves the Red Room, and returns with a large towel. They dry me off, and clean up the floor mat as well. Then they get back in character, and Kassandra speaks to me.

"For trespassing in my room, and having the nerve to tickle my bare feet, you will now receive 100 firm spanks on your bare bottom."

"But it's not fair," I say, "because Zara provoked me. She told me to do it."

Kassandra is now scowling at me, and it is clear that I should have kept my mouth shut.

"Because you talked back to me, I'm doubling your punishment--I'll give you 200 spanks. And because you tried to blame Zara, she will also give you 200 spanks."

"200 of my own?" asks Zara, with joy in her voice.

"Yes, on his bare bottom. Now, on your belly on the mat, and thank me after every ten."

The mat is now covered by a clean towel, and I lie down on it. Kassandra begins spanking me with her bare hand, medium strength.

"10. Thank you," I say after the first ten.

After 30, she begins to spank harder.

"40. Thank you."

"50. Thank you."

"His bottom is nice and pink now, but my hand stings. Try and find me something to use," she says to Zara.

Zara goes to my bag of toys and gets a wooden spatula.

"I found this spatula in the kitchen."

This hurts more than her hand did, and I moan at the harder blows. The women remark that my 'thank yous' sound more sincere, now that I'm being spanked harder.

"90. Thank you."

The next ten are quite hard, and I cry out after each one.

"Oww! 100. Thank you."

My bottom really stings, and I'm only one-quarter done.

"The second hundred will be over my knee," says Kassandra, and she sits in a chair.

I drape myself over her lap, and I am relieved when she goes back to using her hand. My punishment goes on and on.

"180. Thank you."

But now she picks up the spatula again, and whacks me soundly for the last twenty.

"Oww! 190. Thank you."

"Oh! OWW! 200. Thank you so much for giving me my much deserved punishment."

I struggle to get myself down from her lap, and Zara orders me to lie face down on the mat again. She begins with the spatula, and is spanking me quite hard.

"Oww! 40. Thank you."

"You know," says Zara, "at school your brother is always staring at girls' feet, when they wear sandals. He blushes when we catch him at it."

"Oww! 50. Thank you."

"Well, then," says Kassandra, "I'll help distract him from the pain."

She puts her lovely bare feet right under my face.

"Kiss them," she orders. "It will help take your mind off the spanking."

As Zara keeps pounding my bottom, I alternate kissing the tops of Kassandra's feet. Her feet are truly lovely, size 9, and recently pedicured. As I kiss and kiss them, it does take my mind off the pain in my bottom. I only stop kissing them when I have to thank Zara every ten spanks.

At long last it is done.

"200. Thank you so much--OWW!!"

Zara has given me an extra stroke, harder than any previous.

"for delivering my much deserved punishment."

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As Zara puts the spatula away, Kassandra gives me permission to rub my sore behind. She then orders me to turn over, and lie on my back.

"We'll use my brother's obsession with girls' feet to tease him now," she says.

Both women sit on the couch, and soon I am in heaven--four exquisitely beautiful bare feet are rubbing me all over. My forehead, my cheeks, my chin, my neck, my shoulders, my chest, my belly, my genitals, my thighs, and my lower legs, are all rubbed by their divine feet.

Kassandra stops rubbing me, and puts both her soles right in front of my eyes.

"The soles are your favorite part, aren't they?"

"Yes, absolutely," I answer.

"See how much he likes it?" asks Zara, pointing to my erection.

They both laugh, and continue teasing me with their bare feet for a few more minutes.

"Should we put him to work?" asks Zara.

"Yes, I could use a foot massage," says Kassandra.

Eagerly, I am up on my haunches, ready to go to work.

"Zara first, she's the guest in this house."

I massage Zara's left foot, working slowly and carefully. I use my thumbs mostly, concentrating on the ball of her foot, because she sighs with pleasure when I massage there.

After about five minutes, she orders me to switch feet. On her right foot, it is also the ball where she wants the most massaging done. I am overwhelmed with joy, being allowed to serve the feet of my most beloved Mistress Zara.

"Your sister would like some attention now," she says, and I reluctantly put down her right foot.

I take Kassandra's left foot in my hands, and I again work slowly and carefully, concentrating on my job. She wants the most attention paid to her arch. I follow her orders when she tells me to switch feet. Without having to be told, I also concentrate on the creamy soft arch of her right foot.

"He's quite good at this," remarks Kassandra. "At camp this summer, the only time he'll be allowed out of bondage will be when we want him to massage our feet."

"Yes," says Zara, "it will be endless tickle torture, tied to a bunk, except when he's rubbing our feet."

They both laugh at the picture of me kept prisoner all summer at camp. Zara gets up and takes a picture of me concentrating on the massage of Kassandra's feet. Then Kassandra says that she is satisfied, and I put her lovely foot down.

"Please," I say, "I most humbly beg for permission to lick your soles."

"Should we allow it?" asks Kassandra.

"Yes, we punished him pretty hard," says Zara.

And to me, "Get the dice."

I bring a small plastic box with six dice.

"How many should we let him roll?" asks Kassandra.

"You decide," says Zara.

"O.K. Two dice, but we'll use the product. That way, if he rolls 1-1, he'll get only one lick on each sole."

"Would you be so cruel?"

"Sure. Because I'd be generous if he rolls 6-6."

I take two dice and roll them.

"5-3. That's 15!" I say happily.

"Zara first. She's the guest in our house," says Kassandra.

"May I begin?"

"Go ahead," says Zara, putting her left foot forward.

I hold it tenderly, and extend my tongue fully, licking the whole length, from heel to toe.

"One. Thank you."

"Two. Thank you."

I sometimes lick up the inside of the sole, up to and including the big toe, sometimes up the outside of the sole, up to and including the pinky toe, and sometimes up the center, up to and including the middle toes.

"Fifteen. Thank you ever so much. May I please begin your other foot?"

"Go ahead," says Zara imperiously.

15 long slow licks on her right foot follow. This is my greatest joy, to lick the sacred feet of my beloved Mistress Zara.

"Fifteen. Thank you ever so much for allowing me to lick your lovely soles."

I turn to Kassandra now.

"May I please begin?"

"Yes, but do it slowly, and be sure to savor each one."

Zara's feet are size 7, and Kassandra's are larger, size 9. She notes that I will get more licking on hers for that reason. Once I lick too quickly, and she scolds me, advising me to savor the honor that I am receiving. Finally, all 30 licks are done.

"Thank you ever so much for allowing me to lick you lovely soles. I do realize that it is a great honor."

"Now one last kiss on each," she says.

I plant a wet kiss on the ball of each of her feet.

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The roleplay is now over. I get up, and bring them the presents that I have brought. For Mistress Zara, I have a book by Joyce Carol Oates, one of her favorite authors. (She has a Barnes and Noble wish list, which makes it easy to find a book that she wants.) For Mistress Kassandra, I have a box of Godiva chocolates. They are both pleased.

Mistress Kassandra apologizes that she must go--she has to change clothes for her next session. We hug each other warmly, and she leaves.

I remind Mistress Zara that we must set my quota. She takes one of the dice, and gives me one. She rolls without looking, covering the result with her hand, and has me do the same.

"Pick, mine or yours," she offers.

"Yours," I say.

She reveals a six, the best result possible. I reveal mine, and we see that it was a three.

I smile. I will be allowed to gratify myself six times before our next session, in two weeks. I gather up all of the pictures taken during this session. They will be excellent inspiration.

Now it is time to get dressed and go home. It will be two weeks before I see my beloved Mistress Zara again, and more than two months before our next joint session with Mistress Kassandra.

-The End-

Mistress Zara has a website, which may be found here:

http://www.mistresszaranyc.com

Mistress Kassandra has a website, which may be found here:

http://mistress_kassandra.tripod.com

The dungeon's website is here:

http://www.thehiddenchamber.com

Photo of them (MZ on right):

Milargros, I had a session with Kassandra 7/11

Milagros, I am grateful you promoted Mistress Kassandra and the Hidden Chamber. Oh, thank heaven for 7/11, as last Friday I had a session with Kassandra. We had fun and a lot of laughter!

Great story. I really enjoyed it. I look forward to reading some more of your stories.

Oh, The Bride of Pimpenstein is finished and posted.

Enjoy!

Herr Kitzeln

A question

Milagros, I enjoyed your story even more reading it a second time. Great stuff.

The first time I read it, the camera reference got past me. Was there film in that camera? Did you really take pictures?

Yes, there was film in the camera. It is a Polaroid camera, so the pictures pop right out, and there is not need to have them developed. Each of the Mistresses took pictures of me with the other.

For my part, I pledged to them that the pictures were for my own use only, never to be shown to anybody or posted anywhere.

loved this story- what FUN!

OMG, that was damn masochistic of you!
Very concise, articulate and descriptive use of words...You really are a great writer!

Hardcore!

I will have to take time and read your story.