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A Bet With The Girl Who Thought She Wasn't Ticklish

LosingControl

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Mar 12, 2016
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Back when I was in my mid-20s, I used to regularly hang out with a group of people here in NYC. They were all a bunch of 20 sometimes, and we’d often go out drinking together on the weekends. 



One of the women in the group was named Katherine, and I got to be pretty good friends with her over the years. She was Irish-American, quite tall (at around 5’8), pale skin, bright blue eyes, and dark hair. She was quite attractive, with very delicate features, and an athletic build (having played competitive field hockey all throughout college). In a certain respect, she looked a bit like a human-version of Snow White from the Disney movie.

Anyway, Katherine was an interesting girl. Extremely liberal from a social/political perspective, but also very prudish and uptight, and I quickly learned that she wasn’t really comfortable with physical affection - even hugs. She never dated, and displayed a standoffishness to anyone who tried to win her affection. She was also pretty feisty - kind of tomboyish - but still feminine at the same time.

Despite being prudish, she really liked to drink, staying true to her Irish heritage. I’d often find myself drinking with her and others in the group in dive bars in the lower east side of the city. It was always fairly platonic between us, despite some flirtation, although I gradually suspected that she had developed a crush on me. I had always played it pretty cool with her, and for someone of her temperament this proved to be the right approach.

On one particular Saturday night, everyone else from the group had gone home, and it was just the two of us left at some bar. I forget what sparked this, but the conversation somehow turned briefly to tickling, and she asked if I was ticklish. I told her that I was, so she proceeded to gently stroke her fingers along my upper arm. It was a pretty poor attempt at tickling, I must say, but I did flinch a little; she smiled, seeming pleased with my reaction.

Deciding that it would be only natural to reciprocate, I asked her if she was ticklish, and she replied that she wasn’t - extending her arm as an offer to test.

Before I continue, I’ll stop here and say that while I had never tickled Katherine before, I was pretty sure that she was ticklish. You know how you can just tell with certain people, based on their overall demeanor? Well, she was someone that I had pegged for being super ticklish, so while I found it interesting that she assertively claimed she wasn’t - and wanted to prove it - I didn’t want to waste this developing opportunity in such in inopportune setting.

So, I took my finger, in the same ineffectual fashion that she had done, and gently stroked it along her upper arm. She predictably didn’t flinch, since I was hardly even tickling her, and stared at me with a proud look of defiance.

“See, I told you I’m not ticklish”, she said.

We then ordered another drink, but all the while a plan was hatching in my mind. I knew from past experience that Katherine was very competitive, so I decided to test my luck and bait her.

“I can’t believe that you’re not ticklish, Katherine. Everyone is ticklish. It’s just not possible”.

She replied that she wasn’t ticklish at all, although she felt like she was a bit when she was younger.

I then decided to go for it.

“OK, let’s make this interesting. I’m so confident that you’re ticklish, that I bet you I can get you to give up in less than 15 minutes of tickling you. If I’m right, then you have to buy all of my drinks for the next month. If I’m wrong, then I’ll buy all of your drinks.”

She looked a my quizzically, but I just smiled back smugly at her and waited.

“Fine, this should be easy”, she said. “When do you want to do this?”

I looked at my watch, and it was only just after 12. “How about right now?”, I said.

She was game, so we left the bar, jumped in a cab, and headed back to my apartment. As I said, we were pretty good friends, so she’d been over several times before.

We walked into the apartment, and she sat down on the couch while I fixed us both a drink. I sat down next to her, and she extended her arm again, saying that she was ready. At this point, I realized she had absolutely no idea whether she was actually ticklish or not, and that being gently stroked on her upper arm was her main reference point!

I laughed, telling her that I already knew she wasn’t ticklish there, and that I wanted to try tickling her properly.

“What do you mean by ‘properly’”, she asked, unsure of what I was saying.

I told her to follow me, as I proceeded to the bedroom, and then told her to lay down on the bed. She lay face up initially, but I had a plan in mind at this point, so told her to turn over and lay on her stomach, which she did.

I then told her that I needed to tie her up first, so that she didn’t accidentally hurt me while I was tickling her. It was a bold move, but given that we were both a bit drunk, and that she was innocent enough not to have any real associations with bondage - while also believing that she wasn’t ticklish - she said that would be OK.

“You’re going to be disappointed”, she mocked. “I’m really not ticklish”.

I just smiled, going to my closet, and taking out several neck ties. I then tied her wrists to each corner of the bed, and then her ankles tightly together, securing the end to the foot of the bed.

I asked if she could get out, so she struggled a bit against the ties, and told me that she couldn’t. She didn’t seem nervous at all really; again, she didn’t believe that she was ticklish, so to her this was all just part of an elaborate prelude to her winning the bet.

I was pretty excited at this point. Katherine typically dressed pretty conservatively, even on a night out, so she was wearing jeans, a black tank top (it was summer), and light blue socks - having taken off her sneakers when she got into the apartment.

At this point I should also mention that Katherine had absolutely gorgeous feet. She was one of those girls that very rarely went barefoot, generally favoring boots or sneakers, but on the couple times I had seen her feet they were always in immaculate condition. I’d say that they were about a size 8, very soft looking, with a toe ring on the 2nd toe of her right foot.

I moved to the foot of the bed, standing in front of her sock-clad soles, and started to gently slide her socks off.

“Wait, are you going to tickle my feet?”, she asked, seeming surprised.

“Yup, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Have you ever been tickled there before”.

“I’m not sure”, she responded, “maybe back when I was a kid”.

At this point, I’d finished taking off her socks, and looked down upon the inviting soles of her upturned feet. They were light pink on the bottoms, in contrast to the milkiness of her skin tone, and completely blemish-free.

I then went back to my closet, taking a thin piece of twine from my ‘tickle bag’ (I’d had many play sessions by this point in my life, so had already amassed quite an arsenal of standard tickle toys).

I walked back over to her feet, and started looping the twine around her big toes.

“Hey, what are you doing?”, she protested.

I told her that this was just so that she couldn’t kick me. She just laughed, and said “This is so weird”.

After securing her big toes together, I told her that I was ready to start, setting a timer for 15 minutes on my phone.

Without wasting any time, now that the clock was actually ticking, I went back to my bag of tricks and took out a stiff turkey feather. I figured that I’d start with something light to test the waters.

I went back to her sexy, bound feet, and slowly dragged the feather along her left sole. As soon as the feather made contact, her whole body seized up, and she let out a little yelp.

“What the hell is that?, she demanded, clearly surprised by her own reaction.

I didn’t reply, but instead continued stroking the soft end of the feather up and down her bare feet, along her arches and under the stems of her toes.

I could see her scrunching up her face as I was doing this, trying to her best to stay still. But the cat was out of the bag at this point: she was ticklish - feather ticklish, in fact - which meant that this was going to be a really fun 15 minutes…

I then decided to turn up the heat, cupping one of my hands across both of her ankles, pressing them firmly into the bed. I then flipped around the feather in my other hand, and started gently stroking the quill end methodically along her sensitive arches.


This immediately got her going. She started making panicked sounds, palpably unnerved by her own ticklishness, and desperately trying to contain her laugher. I could feel her ankles trying to kick up against my hand, her feet wiggling frantically back and forth, but I had her tied down tight so she could hardly move at all.

I just laughed, and told her that this was going to be easier than I thought, as I switched to stroking the tip of the feather along the balls of her feet, and under her poor, sensitive toes.

She let out a startled laugh as I did this, and begun pulling at the bonds in earnest.

“OK, OK, I guess I’m ticklish”, she gasped between snorts of laughter.

“This isn’t fair - I thought that you were going to tickle me in a normal way. This is really intense”, she whined. Her voice betrayed her growing sense of nervousness, so I decided to reassure her, lest she prematurely end the bet.


I chuckled, telling her that I could stop, but this would mean that she lost the bet, after less than a minute of tickling! Her defiant nature took over, ordering me to continue, but to give her a little break first.

So I put down the feather, placing one hand on each of her feet, and began deeply massaging her warm soles with my thumbs, making sure to do it firmly enough that it wouldn’t have tickled. I could feel her gently relaxing under my touch, and I was transfixed by how incredibly soft and tender her bound bare feet felt in my hands.

After massaging for a couple minutes, which by her soft moans she was clearly enjoying, I grew cognizant that the time was ticking away on the stopwatch, with only 10 minutes left at this point. I decided that this had been a sufficient break for her, and that I going to go all out now and truly test her limits. After all, I had a bet to win.

I transitioned my massage into lightly stroking the bottoms of her feet with the tips of my fingers; they twitched dramatically at the marked change in sensation.

“Wait, wait, what are you doing?”, she implored.

Without explanation, I curled my fingers, so that my fingernails were now making contact with her soles, and begin scribbling them furiously along her delicate arches.

I remember this moment vividly, since she literally shrieked at the top of her lungs, and then immediately began howling with deep, uncontrollable laughter. The kind of laugher that cant be faked; a primal, animalistic response to the unbearably ticklish sensations she was suddenly experiencing and couldn’t escape from.

“Ahh hahahahah haha haha hahahahahahahaha.”

She was tugging desperately at her bonds, but I had been sure to tie her tightly, with very little slack, so all she could really do was bounce her butt around while flailing her head widely from side to side in ticklish anguish.

I was tickling her mercilessly, with no pause or respite, alternating between her arches and toes, while occasionally pinching my fingers at the more meaty skin around the balls of her feet. As it turned out, this girl was unknowingly 10/10 ticklish on her feet, evidently a total shock to her, and I was exploiting this newfound weakness with unrelenting ruthlessness.

I loved watching her restrained feet frantically trying to escape the torment - her large, soft, pink soles desperately flexing and wrinkling up in a futile response to the persistent scratching of my fingernails.

In line with the constant tickling, her laugher was entirely unbroken - with her never even begging or letting a single, comprehensible word out. She was so ticklish that I think she had actually lost the capacity to speak; guttural, unbridled laugher being forced out of her in unyielding waves, subsuming every last inch of her consciousness.

As I cruelly tormented every overstimulated nerve-ending on her trapped and exposed bare soles, I’d periodically mock her predicament:

“Wow, looks like someone is a little ticklish on their feet, huh Katherine?”

“Did I win the bet yet, or do you think you can take it?”

“I thought you were tough, I’m hardly even tickling you.”

She didn’t respond to any of my jibes. I don’t even think they registered, as she was deeply entrenched in her own world of sensory overload.

‘HAHAHA AHH HAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHA’.

After nearly 5 long minutes of brutally tickling the bottoms of Katherine’s bare feet to the brink of madness, I decided to give her another break.

As my tickling ceased, she finally stopped her desperate thrashing. I could hear her gasping for breath, her whole body heaving from the exhausting ordeal.

I went over to the head of the bed to see how she was doing. She was a total mess - hair matted to her beat red face, tears streaming from her eyes, drool pooled on her lips and chin. She looked like someone that had been through an exorcism, clearly spent, and just lay there catatonically breathing.

After perhaps a minute, when she had recovered to the point of being able to form coherent thoughts again, she started earnestly begging and pleading with me.

“That was too much”, she gasped. “I can’t take it anymore. Please let me go. I’m done.”

“Are you sure Katherine?”, I inquired? “There are still almost 5 minutes left, and if you give up now you’ll lose the bet”.

“I don’t care!”, she spluttered. “You win the fucking bet ok!”

She was sobbing a bit at this point, clearly shaken and exasperated by how intense the experience had been for her. While I had planned on using those last precious 5 minutes to drive her over the edge with the baby oil / brush combo on her soles, I could tell that she was serious and that she was genuinely done.

So, I obligingly started to untie her - first her wrists, and then used my pair of safety scissors to release her big toes from their bondage; as I did this, she immediately begun rubbing each foot against its partner’s sole, presumably to ward off the ghost sensations that lingered.

Finally, I untied her ankles and she was free again. She quickly sat up and looked at me with a feral intensity.

“That was fucking insane. I can’t believe you did that to me. I never knew I was so ticklish. No one had ever tickled me like that before.”

“I really wanted you to stop”, she continued, “but I couldn’t even get a word out. That was horrible.”

She was still shaking and lightly sobbing at this point, so I wanted to make sure she was ok.

“Sorry Katherine, I guess I did get a bit carried away there, but I was trying to win the bet.”

I smiled warmly at her, and she smiled back.

“So”, I said jokingly, “I guess that settles the bet then.”

She laughed, and lay back down on the bed, looking both exhausted and elated. This is one of my favorite things about tickling someone to their limits: the afterglow they experience when it all comes to an end; unbearable hysteria quickly replaced with a sense of meditative serenity.

I lay down next to her, and put my arm around her, while she snuggled into me. She was tired, but seemed happy. We chatted for awhile as we lay together, and it was great to see her so uncharacteristically relaxed - her highly-strung nature having been tickled into temporary submission.

As we talked, she kept remarking on how ticklish she was, and even admitted that it had been kind of fun (despite hating it at the time). She was upset about losing the bet, of course, but I told her that she didn’t need to make good on it, and that instead I’d buy her next round of drinks as an apology for tickling her so meanly.

I was waiting for her to ask me if I had a thing for tickling, but it never came up - although she did slyly ask me if she could get revenge sometime, to which I winked and gave a non-committal answer (it never happened).

After that, she went home, and we never really spoke about it again. We remained friends for several more years, but ultimately drifted apart as we both grew more busy with our careers, and binge-drinking on the weekends gave way to other priorities.
 
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A truly wonderful story! :feets: Thanks for sharing your experience here. :D
 
This was a great story, man I wish you would have gotten her upper body. I bet she was fiendishly ticklish all over, but I bet her legs would be bad.
 
Thanks for the comments! I wish I could have gotten her upper body too - if I had more time, I certainly would have, but after tickling her feet like that she was done, and I don't think that she'd have taken me up on another bet ;)
 
Great story! Love how you 'tricked' her into getting tied and.tickled!

Always good to reveal a girl is ticklish and proving her wrong ;)
 
Great story! I love when people think they've magically "outgrown" being ticklish because they haven't been tickled in a long time, and obviously adults aren't ticklish. And then they find out that they were wrong, preferably while tied up. Especially when it's an athletic, tough-girl type! :evilha::mwahaha:
 
Great story, and wonderfully written. Would love to read more if you have them!
 
Glad that you loved the story! I do have a number of other experiences that I could write about if you're interested. Let me know which one you think you'd like to read about most:

1) Held down my girlfriend's mom and tickled her feet with my girlfriend (this was when I was just out of high school)
2) Tied up and tickled this punk / heavily tatted girl who I knew back from high school, when she was visiting NYC recently
3) Tickled one of my best friends intensively (Asian girl, heavily restrained, and deathly ticklish on her feet)
4) Hog-tied and tickled one of my bratty friends, who thought that she'd be able to easily take it (she couldn't)

A have many more as well, but these are the ones that are coming to mind. Let me know if you'd be interested in hearing about any of them!
 
This is such a fabulous story! I really dig it when tough girls who don't believe that they're ticklish suddenly discover that they are! Great details. Thanks for sharing! :thumbsup:
 
Glad that you loved the story! I do have a number of other experiences that I could write about if you're interested. Let me know which one you think you'd like to read about most:

1) Held down my girlfriend's mom and tickled her feet with my girlfriend (this was when I was just out of high school)
2) Tied up and tickled this punk / heavily tatted girl who I knew back from high school, when she was visiting NYC recently
3) Tickled one of my best friends intensively (Asian girl, heavily restrained, and deathly ticklish on her feet)
4) Hog-tied and tickled one of my bratty friends, who thought that she'd be able to easily take it (she couldn't)

A have many more as well, but these are the ones that are coming to mind. Let me know if you'd be interested in hearing about any of them!

I vote for story #4! :D But would love to hear all! :)
 
All of ‘em! The mother or punk chick sound best to me, though.

Good story well told. Thanks for sharing.

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV
 
I would also love to hear about all of them, great story btw!
 
Certainly no 1.
As for the tickle bet. Fantastic story. Brilliantly told.
As for an Irish American girl, I've never met one but met plenty of Irish girls and never met one yet that wasn't insanely ticklish, especially on their feet.
The pictures attached are of a mature Irish lady.
Just like the one in your story, you can play with her arms neck back all day. But fouch her feet and she's on the ceiling hysterical. Lol
 

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Awesome story! I too wish you had gotten to another part of her body, but finding a killer spot was still great.

4) Hog-tied and tickled one of my bratty friends, who thought that she'd be able to easily take it (she couldn't)
I vote for this one, but I'd love to hear any of them.
 
Tell us the story of tickling your girlfriends mom. Tell us her age at the time and describe her looks and proportions and how ticklish her feet were. Great story. Thanks for sharing guy
 
To answer your question which one, I say YES!
 
Glad that you loved the story! I do have a number of other experiences that I could write about if you're interested. Let me know which one you think you'd like to read about most:

1) Held down my girlfriend's mom and tickled her feet with my girlfriend (this was when I was just out of high school)
2) Tied up and tickled this punk / heavily tatted girl who I knew back from high school, when she was visiting NYC recently
3) Tickled one of my best friends intensively (Asian girl, heavily restrained, and deathly ticklish on her feet)
4) Hog-tied and tickled one of my bratty friends, who thought that she'd be able to easily take it (she couldn't)

A have many more as well, but these are the ones that are coming to mind. Let me know if you'd be interested in hearing about any of them!

Please post all of them! :D
 
Katherine was right, that was horrible. Well written, sure, but total abuse.

In line with the constant tickling, her laugher was entirely unbroken - with her never even begging or letting a single, comprehensible word out. She was so ticklish that I think she had actually lost the capacity to speak; guttural, unbridled laugher being forced out of her in unyielding waves, subsuming every last inch of her consciousness.

As I cruelly tormented every overstimulated nerve-ending on her trapped and exposed bare soles, I’d periodically mock her predicament......


She didn’t respond to any of my jibes. I don’t even think they registered, as she was deeply entrenched in her own world of sensory overload.

After nearly 5 long minutes of brutally tickling the bottoms of Katherine’s bare feet to the brink of madness, I decided to give her another break.

As my tickling ceased, she finally stopped her desperate thrashing. I could hear her gasping for breath, her whole body heaving from the exhausting ordeal.

I went over to the head of the bed to see how she was doing. She was a total mess - hair matted to her beat red face, tears streaming from her eyes, drool pooled on her lips and chin. She looked like someone that had been through an exorcism, clearly spent, and just lay there catatonically breathing.

After perhaps a minute, when she had recovered to the point of being able to form coherent thoughts again, she started earnestly begging and pleading with me.

“That was too much”, she gasped.....

“That was fucking insane. I can’t believe you did that to me. I never knew I was so ticklish. No one had ever tickled me like that before.”
“I really wanted you to stop”, she continued, “but I couldn’t even get a word out. That was horrible.”


1) Held down my girlfriend's mom and tickled her feet with my girlfriend (this was when I was just out of high school)
2) Tied up and tickled this punk / heavily tatted girl who I knew back from high school, when she was visiting NYC recently
3) Tickled one of my best friends intensively (Asian girl, heavily restrained, and deathly ticklish on her feet)
4) Hog-tied and tickled one of my bratty friends, who thought that she'd be able to easily take it (she couldn't)

If half of this is accurate you not only truly torture your "friends" but possibly turn them off this for life. In addition to risking theirs in the process.

Someone that sensitive could have a heart attack --- unable to form words, not breathing well, etc. In fantasy, no harm, but in reality? True tales? That's criminal. :mad:

3 to 5 minutes of non-stop torture in at least two different situations above, with young women who didn't understand and were not warned about the reality
----- much less offered a Safeword? Here you offered an "out" but didn't stop to let her catch her breath & speak, until 5 minutes of agony passed??


1-3 minutes could be enough to cause a medical emergency in addition to trauma.
Even 20-30 seconds of Hell can do damage, especially when they're not prepared & hate it, can't deal with it.

Again, hold very hot metal & see how long "JUST" a few seconds can be....

If the above is true, there's an almost complete lack of empathy, consideration and concern here.

The intermittent pretenses towards concern here or there just make it worse, frankly. There's no excuse for abusing women or anyone like this.
 
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