“Okay. Six o’clock. You look cute; stylish, sophisticated, a little cleavage showing to see if he passes the eye contact test... and it’s just grabbing a quick drink. No pressure! You got this, girl!”. Kayleigh, in need of a little self-reassurance after her last relationship got... “weird. It was definitely weird. Like, bugs crawling on your skin, shivers up your spine, WEIRD.” She’s ready to move on, past that ex-boyfriend that she may never feel comfortable opening up about, and hopefully meeting someone whom she can form a real bond with. “There’s my ride. You be a good kitty, Josie. I won’t be late.”
During her ride to Bruno’s, she spends her time eliminating the last vestiges of “him” from her phone- his phone number, and the only photo remaining in which the two of them actually look happy. For a moment, she views it with longing and a slight sadness- there they were gazing into each other’s eyes, one of each other’s arms embracing the others’ waist, her other hand on his chest, and his tucked in the crook of her underarm... her moment of bliss turns to disgust. “Ugh. So fucking weird.” Despite it being a hot summer evening, the visual of his fingers hidden in that spot gave her a chill; trashing that photo brought her back to the warmth of reality, as did her arrival at the restaurant, as she stepped out onto the humid, dusk-soaked sidewalk welcoming her to a hopeful, new stage of her life.
Kayleigh’s date, Marty, was waiting for her at the bar. Perhaps it was her newfound liberation, but she was blushing and beaming when he smiled and motioned her over.
“Hi, Kayleigh!”, Marty belted out, the way only a nervous first date can.
“Hi, Marty! It’s very nice to meet you. And oh my god, I love your tie! Hilarious!”, Kayleigh reciprocated the greeting with a genuine, flirty laugh, referring to Marty’s goofy tie design- cats with superimposed human smiles on their faces.
“Thanks! Yeah, even when I’m not at my job, I’m tied up with work.” Marty’s horrible pun evinces a playful grimace from Kayleigh, who squeezes in beside him at the bar, feeling at ease with the chemistry between the two first date acquaintances.
“So I’m going to follow the breadcrumbs and assume that you are a cat dentist, then?” inquires Kayleigh in a playful, semi-serious tone as the two order cocktails from the bar tender.
“Ha! That is a very sharp wit that you have, Miss,” Marty zings Kayleigh back, and continues with the facetious sarcasm, “Actually, I am a feline orthodontist, and all of the cats that you see on this tie are former patients of mine, whose crooked cat teeth I have straightened with precise, delicate hands, tiny tools and a desire to make my patients happy.”
“Wow, that is fascinating. You must receive pawsitive reviews all the time. How’s the return customer base? I mean, one cat probably comes back to you an extra 8 lifetimes, right?” Both Kayleigh and Marty laugh at the line of stupid cat jokes that they seem to be bonding over.
“In reality, I’m just a boring dentist for humans, though admittedly one who loves cats. Prior to this blind date, I had a date set up with my several cats. They were heartbroken when they had to eat their liver n kibble feast all alone.” Marty’s admission about his love for cats drew adoration from Kayleigh, who then proceeded to gush about Josie, her cat, and they agree that their second date will be a play date for the cats and dinner for the two of them.
“Speaking of cats, I did promise Josie that I wouldn’t be gone long, so as much as I would love to keep this going, we’ll have to break off for tonight, but I’ll see you again on Monday?” Kayleigh reaches for her purse as Marty pays for their two drinks.
“Yeah that sounds great! It was really nice to meet you Kayleigh. I had a great time. Next time we can talk about us and not about our cats,” Marty said with a wink. They hug goodbye, and as Marty pulls his hand away from Kayleigh’s back, his fingertips skate across the smooth skin of her exposed armpit.
“EEEEK!”, she squeals, spilling her purse everywhere. Embarrassed by her reaction and the ensuing mess, she quickly drops to the floor in the hopes of disappearing until the stares of the other patrons dissipate. Marty drops to her side and helps her gather her things.
“I am so sorry about that. I could have been more wary of my hands. You sure are ticklish though, huh?”
Kayleigh had a sneaking suspicion that Marty intentionally touched her under the arm, but wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt, maintains her calm with him as they finish gathering her things. “Really, it’s okay. It was an accident. And yes, I am very ticklish. And I am sensitive about how sensitive I am, so I would feel best if we just dropped the discussion about it.”
“Sure thing. And, again, I’m very sorry.” The attention of the patrons diverted back to their dates and drinks and Kayleigh’s belongings collected in her purse, she and Marty say one more goodbye outside the bar and each take a cab in opposite directions.
“He’s not like that. It was an unintentional brush of skin against skin. If you wanted to avoid the possibility of that happening, you should have just worn something with sleeves. He’s not like that... not like him.” Kayleigh’s mind was analyzing the incident at the bar... over and over again. She can’t be blamed: after all that Ron had put her through... the manipulation, the control, the... “No, not that. Don’t even think about that. Don’t associate Marty with that creep and his... proclivities. You had a good time tonight with a normal guy that you are going to see again for another vanilla, normal date.” Her mind settled that Marty was indeed an average, milquetoast guy, Kayleigh settled into her couch with her cat Feathers and a glass of wine to close out the night with her favorite trashy reality show.
*Phone vibrating* “Ugh. What do you waaaant? It’s so late.... What the fuck is this?” Expecting to see a boring text from her mom, Kayleigh was met with a disturbing, short message coded in emojis, coming from a number that she thought she recognized, but that had no name linked to her phone:
⏱4️⃣🪶🤣
Kayleigh’s stomach dropped. The message was clear to her, as was who sent it. After freezing in dread for a moment, a shiver up her spine snapped her to reality, and she opened the number pad on her phone and dialed “911”. Before she could hit send, however, she was startled by a series of knocks on her apartment door, the phone slipping from her hand and sliding across the smooth hardwood floor underneath the sofa. She froze... she listened. Another series of knocks, and then a familiar voice.
“Kayleigh? Kayleigh, it’s Marty. I have your work ID; you missed picking it up in the bar when you dropped your things.” Relieved to hear a friendly voice on the other side, she rushed over and threw the door open, oblivious to her present state of undress in a sports bra and boy shorts. “Well I have to be honest... I was expecting our second date to at least be athleisure dress code.”
Brushing off his playful banter, Kayleigh pleads, “Marty! You have to listen. I have to call the police. He’s coming for me. He’s coming and I’m terrified. He’s goi-“
Bemused and incredulous, Marty tries to get her to calm down. “Whoa! Kayleigh, slow down. What the hell are you talking about? Who’s coming? Who’s going to do what?”
Composing herself as best she can, her voice still wavering with anxiety, “My ex-boyfriend... he just sent me a message... he’s going to come here, and he’s going to...” Kayleigh cut off mid-sentence by a sudden, unnerving realization; her innocent brown eyes widened with fear. “Marty... how did you know where I live? I never told you whe-“ before she could finish, Marty had lunged at her, restraining her arms at her side with one arm and placing a cloth soaked in anesthetic over her mouth and nose. As she slipped under and went limp, the last thing she heard was Marty saying, “I’m really sorry about this Kayleigh... I don’t have a choice.”
“Unnhh...” Kayleigh was coming to, blurry vision and fuzzy memory making it difficult to discern where she was or what had happened. She remembered being at home... and then she dropped her phone while she was calling the police... and then Marty... “Unhhh... Marty? Marty?!”. The fog was lifting from her eyes and mind, and the terror of what had happened came flooding back to her as the visual of her present location and status became clear.
Kayleigh recognized the oversized king bed she was laying in, though it wasn’t her bed. It was the only piece of furniture in a proportionally large room, the walls of which were painted a cold, institution white, unadorned by any decor and void of natural light. The floors were covered with a thick, plush white carpet, made even softer with extra padding underneath to act as a sound barrier. Despite the icy appearance of the room, the thermostat must have been broken (the assumption that someone unfamiliar with Kayleigh’s situation might make), but she knew that it was intentionally shut off to allow the summer heat to permeate the walls.
“Sweat makes a great lubricant for the skin.” Ron’s exuberance in making that statement rushed to Kayleigh’s head, filling her with rage as she recalled the last time that she was here. Her attire had also been changed; when she had met Marty at her door, she was scantily clad in an athletic bra and boy shorts. Now, she had on a white, silken polyester button-up blouse and a black pencil skirt, both of which were far too snug to be hers.
“I know what I have; I don’t feel the need to flaunt it, especially at work,” Kayleigh used to tell her girlfriends when they would knock her for dressing too conservatively and not buying clothes to show off her 38E natural bust, contoured waist, curvy hips and athletic legs. No, she knew that what she was wearing was provided by him, part of his ritual. She also noticed that a pair of black nylons had been placed on her legs, and a pair of 4 inch stiletto heels strapped to her feet.
The sight of her feet brought her another horrific discovery: she had been bound with medical restraints, her stockinged feet stretched to the foot of the bed, her hands bound tight overhead, both ends pulled taut and allowing for no slack. She knew she was trapped, and the panic set in.
“Ron! I know you can hear me. Please just let me go! I’m sorry. I had no reason to ruin your career by outing you to the entire company about your tickle fetish. I was angry; I felt like I was falling in love with you, but I could not build a relationship with someone who always wanted to tickle me! We couldn’t have sex without you tying me up and torturing me the entire time. Surely you can understand where I’m coming from, or at least why I left you?!”
As she finished speaking, the bedroom door opened and Marty walked in. He carried with him a duffel bag, which was placed by the bedside as he looked pathetically at Kayleigh. “Marty, please...”
“Kayleigh, I’m sorry. There’s nothing that I can do. If I don’t do what he says, he’ll expose my tax-evasion and I’ll lose my practice. I know it’s not fair to you, and I truly hope you can forgive me, but I have my own interests to look out for.”
“You selfish son of a bitch! Fuck you, Marty! You’re going to do that fucker’s dirty work, torturing an innocent woman who has nothing to do with your personal finances to save your own skin? You’re as sick as he is!” Kayleigh continued to curse Marty out, and as she did so he, ignoring her pleas by placing earplugs in, began unpacking things from the duffel bag: two video cameras, what looked like a smaller, insulated lunchbox and some sort of oxygen canister with a mask.
“Oh my god! HEEEELP! HEEEEEELP MEEEEE!” Kayleigh began screaming and struggling against the bonds, though she knew it was useless. Having been here before, she knew that Ron’s house was on 10 acres of land in the middle of nowhere, and that the sound-proofing in the house matched that of any military installation. Having set up the video cameras, Marty approached the side of the bed; from his bag, he pulled a latex mask that resembled some demented cross between an old woman and one of Santa’s elves out and placed it over his face.
“I always cover my face for anonymity; plus, the creepiness of an expressionless face heightens the arousal of fear and therefore increases sensitivity.” Another disturbing quote from that sadist that always stuck with Kayleigh. Marty sat down beside her, sinking into the mattress. As his hand reached towards her taut waist, he made one more apology, seeing the fear in her eyes. He rested his palm on top of the fabric of the blouse for a few seconds, Kayleigh turning her body away from him as best he could, shutting her eyes and gritting her teeth for what she knew was inevitable.
Marty began with a single finger, very lightly dragging against the silk, the silk emulating every inch of movement and every bit of pressure added or reduced against Kayleigh’s sensitive skin, up and down her side, from her left hip up to the left side of her ribs. “Don’t laugh. Whatever you do, don’t laugh,” Kayleigh thought to herself. “That’s what he wants- what he gets off on.” She steeled her resolve as Marty ceased the light teasing and commenced a poking motion, jabbing his finger playfully into her ribs, each jab bringing her closer to losing her composure.
“You seem stressed, Kayleigh- don’t resist the sensations; laugh; enjoy yourself. You place so much stress on work and appeasing the pressures from your parents to be perfect- just let go.” It was as though Ron had trained Marty in this method of torment; starting slow with light touches to get her sensory system in overload, and then...
Marty stood up from her side after a few dozen pokes. Kayleigh hadn’t cracked... yet. She rolled to her back so she could see what Marty was doing. The expressionless face of the latex mask freaked her out; was he truly sympathetic to her plight and only continuing in his own interest, or was he smiling sadistically under that mask, beginning to enjoy tickling her the way that Ron had used to? Marty approached the foot of the bed and stood there, silently menacing Kayleigh for a minute, the blank eyes of the mask peering into her soul.
“Marty, please...” Kayleigh, fully aware that what could be hours of torture were just beginning, attempted to dissuade the figure looming over her from proceeding, to no avail. Proceed he did, to silently remove the high heels that Kayleigh was wearing, one at a time, this time very intentionally allowing his fingers to drag along the hyper sensitive flesh of her stockinged soles. She took a deep breath, strained against the bonds again, hoping through some deus ex machina that they would release her helpless feet; the only release that came to her was the first of countless outbursts of screaming laughter as Marty, no longer playing games with pokes and brief touches, formed his fingers into a claw shape and raked up and down helpless Kayleigh’s soles.
“Mmmmmnnnnnyeeeaaaaahaaaahaaa! Fuck fuhahahack!” She had lost control, and somewhere, Ron was getting off on her suffering. As her feet were bound in place, so too were Marty’s fingers bound to her soles, the indentations of his finger tips riding the curve of her arches, wriggling in between her toes and spidering from the sides to the tops. As much as a person can buck and bounce around while tethered, Kayleigh was doing it. Alas, for her, all it was doing was making her an increasingly sweatier, unkempt mess- her wavy, auburn hair stuck in strands to her glistening face, her now untucked blouse soaked through with perspiration, and the skirt riding up past her hips, bunched at her waist. After 10 minutes of sensational torment to Kayleigh’s poor feet, Marty released them. He stared at Kayleigh through the tiny eye holes on the mask, revealing nothing but horror to her. Kayleigh, trying to catch her breath, closed her eyes for a moment, preparing for what was to come. She then felt the bed shifting, and her eyes bolted open to see Marty straddling her waist, his hands slowly and methodically undoing the buttons on Kayleigh’s blouse.
“Oh my god! What are you doing, you fucking pervert?! Get off of me or I’ll...”
“You’ll laugh? Scream? Beg? How about all three at once?” Ron’s mocking voice played through her head. The memories were coming back to her; Kayleigh had lived this before, the procedure being the same every time; playful teasing, followed by aggressive foot tickling. She knew full well that with the undoing of her clothes, she was about to endure unbearable tickling on her upper body. The blouse opened, Kayleigh’s curvy body was fully exposed, her pendulous breasts barely contained within the intentionally undersized red push-up bra. As Marty rolled the sleeves of the blouse past Kayleigh’s shoulders, exposing her silky armpits, glistening with sweat, he dragged a finger across the smooth flesh, evincing a high pitched yelp and a screwed up face from Kayleigh.
“That was intentional,” he said to her insidiously, voice muffled from behind the mask, “and just so you know, it was intentional at the bar, too.” Kayleigh responded by pulling at her bonds once more, eyes growing wider as Marty, spidering his fingers just above her armpits, made his intentions clear.
As all five fingers of both hands made contact, sliding along the sweaty flesh, Kayleigh broke into a fit of silent, shaking laughter. For what seemed an endless period of time to Kayleigh, Marty’s digits waltzed the elegant ballroom floor of Kayleigh’s underarms, the only sounds in the room being the creaking of the bed as Kayleigh desperately pulled on the restraints in an attempt to draw her elbows down to hide this hypersensitive area. Her face contorted, mouth open in a hysterical, silent scream that never emanated; tears gushed from her eyes, alternating between wide open in panic and slamming shut in the hope that the torture would just magically disappear; all of the bouncing had caused both of her large breasts to bounce free of the push-up bra that had once contained them, exposing her soft, light pink nipples.
“Mahaheheeeehee- Martyheeeeheeee... ohahahap... n’ttsssssssss... eaheeeheet.” Kayleigh managed to elicit a few sounds after her lungs adjusted to the heavy breathing pattern brought on by her ticklish body. Marty understood what she was trying to say, and gave her a reprieve. “Oh god, Marty,” Kayleigh said through tear soaked eyes, her voice now hoarse from the earlier screaming and laughing, “please... please... please...” it was all she could muster. She thought he would have mercy on her; that he would see her suffering and realize that it wasn’t worth it to continue torturing her to save his own ass. He sat inert, straddling her thighs, her sweat-soaked torso inflating and deflating as she caught her breath. Marty removed the latex mask, revealing a devious look and menacing smile in his eyes.
“You deserve this, Kayleigh, and I’ve really begun to enjoy making you suffer. I know longer care about hiding my face from the camera; you have turned me into a tickle fiend tonight, and tonight, I have a free pass to indulge that without limits with my own personal tickle play thing.”
Having removed the mask, Marty was now free to bring his mouth into play, lowering his head over Kayleigh’s left armpit, and alternating using his tongue to press into and wiggle around on the sensitive spot and using his lips to blow long, drawn out raspberries, the effect enhanced by the moisture from Kayleigh’s perspiration and his own saliva.
“Naahahahahahahatttttstssssst thaahaaaahaaataaaahtssss! Ahahhhhhaaaahhaa! Nooohhooooohohhooaaa!” His mouth occupied, Marty used his hands to continue tickling Kayleigh’s other armpit with his fingers, pinching and flicking her sensitive nipples, and also introducing fingers into Kayleigh’s deep, hollow bellybutton, which further drove the poor girl insane. He teased her navel by making circles all across her abdomen, spidering his fingers the whole time, and then as he approached the cavernous void, he would pause, followed by quickly inserting a finger and wiggling it around, Kayleigh’s own sweat acting as the lubricant to enhance her torment.
Following several minutes of this method of torture, Marty ceased and raised his head from Kayleigh’s underarm, leaving a pool of saliva dripping from the stimulated region.
“Oh god. What next?” Kayleigh’s mind, exhausted as it was, was still racing; she had begun to dread the pauses in her torment almost as much as the tickling itself, for she knew it inevitably meant some new horror would be introduced to further enhance her suffering and her captor’s sadistic inclinations.
Marty stood up and walked over to the side of the bed where he had placed the effects he had removed from his bag earlier. Sensing his movement, Kayleigh shifted her brown, tear-soaked eyes to get a glimpse of Marty approaching the head of the bed again, this time with the canister that she saw him remove from the bag earlier, as well as the silly tie which he had worn to their date.
“My, Kayleigh, you’ve had quite an exhausting evening. So far.” This last part Marty added while unsnapping Kayleigh’s bra, fully releasing her large, sweat-coated breasts from their confines, the pendulous mounds flesh swaying back and forth before settling. Saving her breath, knowing that Marty wanted her to beg and plead, Kayleigh opted for a fierce glare, her fully naked torso now exposed. “Which is why I’ve decided that I’m not going to tickle you anymore- no more armpit raspberries or licking, no more rib-digging, no more raking across your soles- no, I’m going to help you relax. You’ve always been so uptight, as long as I’ve known you, you could never just chill out.”
“You’ve known me less than a day, asshole! What the fuck are you talking about?!” Kayleigh raged at Marty, who sat there calmly, as only someone who knows they are in complete control can. As the sweat beaded on her face, dripped down her nude breasts and pooled in her bellybutton, her anger turned into terror, the realization that what Marty had just said was not a lie, but an admission of truth. “You... but... how... what...”
“Well, now there’s a sentence. I’m really surprised it took you this long, Kayleigh, between the intentional armpit tickle in the bar, the way I knew where you lived, how I knew about your love of cats, the exact repetition of the same tickle process that we’ve gone through before... I guess between the anesthesia and being driven almost insane with tickle torture, you really haven’t had much time to think of anything but your own suffering. Yes, it’s me, Kayleigh. After you outed me for my fetish, I opted for facial reconstruction and vocal change surgery to change my appearance... all so that I could trick you back into my tickling fingers. There is no Marty- just me.”
Ron’s smugness in having duped Kayleigh with such an extreme, far fetched plan, solely to get her back brought her to the boiling point, but before she could verbally assail him, he placed the mask attached to the container over her face and turned the nozzle on. “This is nitrous oxide, Kayleigh. It will definitely help you relax, and it will definitely make you even more giggly and sensitive for the rest of our time together.” The infernal fire in Kayleigh’s eyes began to extinguish as the gas filled her lungs, her breasts rising and falling with each deep breath she took. It didn’t take long for her to become a giggly, hysterical wreck, now without anyone even touching her.
“Heehaheeeha... hmmahameeme... heeheeheeaha. You’ve... heheehe... you’ve poisoned meeeheeehaha. You’re go... gohahaha... going to jeeeheeheeail.” The gas had taken full effect, Kayleigh slurring her words like a drunken college girl. “Youhoohooohee... you’re a baahaaahaad perheeeherrson... I’m... Iheeheeehee... me tooohhoooohoo. I deeeheeeseerve to beeheee... tihihickled.”
Ron looked bemused at the hysterical, curvy, topless, woman in front of him. He felt that now was the time to initiate his next plan. “Well, I’ve already promised that I wouldn’t tickle you any more tonight, Kayleigh. But if it’s tickles you want, it’s tickles you’ll get.” He took the neck tie that Kayleigh loved so much when he was posing as Marty earlier and used it to blindfold Kayleigh. “Since you now want so badly to be tickled, we will just have to make you even more ticklish by removing your sense of sight. Won’t that be fun?!”
From the bag, Ron also pulled a container of ice cream. Unable to see, Kayleigh lay there, writhing and giggling under the influence of the nitrous oxide, blind to the sensations she was about to feel. Ron began placing large dollops of ice cream all over Kayleigh’s body, it melting quickly over her hot, sweaty figure, made even more ticklish by the temperature difference between the air around them and the ice cream, as well as the drips coming from the dessert.
“Eeeeaaaghhaha! Oooh that teehihickles! So cohohold! But I’ll nehehever beg, you bahahahahstard! Ahhhhhhh!” Upon covering her entire upper body with cold, dripping ice cream, Ron proceeded to remove the last vestiges of decency Kayleigh had left- first, by pulling her skirt fully off, then ripping the nylons, allowing the sweaty flesh on her thighs to glisten in the light, and finally fully exposing her by removing the thong that she was wearing.
“No! No! No! This is assault. Don’t you dare touch me down there, you rapist!”
Ron ignored Kayleigh’s reprimand; he had no intention of laying hands on her pussy. Instead he just continued placing the ice cream in large scoops, three right in her groin so that her neatly trimmed nethers soon had a pool of melted ice cream accumulated, down her thighs and then by hand, smearing ice cream all over her now nude feet.
“Ughehehe! This is fuhuhuhacking gross! I’m all stiihihicky you fuck! Are you stihhhill there?! Ahahanswer me!”. Upon emptying the carton of ice cream, Ron stood up and walked over to the door. Kayleigh was now covered neck to toe with cold, sticky, melting ice cream. This was a new form of torture, one that she had not experienced before.
“Kayleigh, my dear, it is late, and I am tired. I’m going to go to bed, but before I do, I just want you to know that I will check on you in the morning after your... friends have visited with you.”
“Friehehends? What are you talking about? Whohoohoo else is heeeheere?! Heeheeheelp me pleeeheease, whoever you are!” She then felt several light disturbances on the bed, too light to be human. There she lay, blindfolded and naked, her voluptuous body covered in melting ice cream, giggling but at the same time terrified. The room was quiet as Ron closed the door.
*Meow* *Meow meow meow* * Meow meow meow meow*
“Hheehe! No, stohahahop that! Bad kihihitties! Nooooohoohahahahaha! Stop licking there! Oohhhhahaha fahahahuck not my armpits! Eeeehahaahahahahahaha leave my nipples alohahahahahane! Get ouhahahaout of my puhuhuhssy! Nohahahat the tohooohoooes!
NOHAGAGAGAHAHAHAHAHAHAHSHSHSSSSSS!”
Kayleigh was left to the mercy of her inhuman tormentors. Her screams and laughter drew no response from them except more excited licking with their rough tongues- tongues in every ticklish nook and cranny of her body. She jerked and writhed, laughed and screamed and fell into a state of hysteria, and still the cats kept licking, cleaning every bit of ice cream off of her hypersensitive body. There must have been a few dozen of them, all at once, tickling her senseless. She had no idea how long they would keep licking, but she didn’t have a choice- all she could do was keep laughing... all night long.
During her ride to Bruno’s, she spends her time eliminating the last vestiges of “him” from her phone- his phone number, and the only photo remaining in which the two of them actually look happy. For a moment, she views it with longing and a slight sadness- there they were gazing into each other’s eyes, one of each other’s arms embracing the others’ waist, her other hand on his chest, and his tucked in the crook of her underarm... her moment of bliss turns to disgust. “Ugh. So fucking weird.” Despite it being a hot summer evening, the visual of his fingers hidden in that spot gave her a chill; trashing that photo brought her back to the warmth of reality, as did her arrival at the restaurant, as she stepped out onto the humid, dusk-soaked sidewalk welcoming her to a hopeful, new stage of her life.
Kayleigh’s date, Marty, was waiting for her at the bar. Perhaps it was her newfound liberation, but she was blushing and beaming when he smiled and motioned her over.
“Hi, Kayleigh!”, Marty belted out, the way only a nervous first date can.
“Hi, Marty! It’s very nice to meet you. And oh my god, I love your tie! Hilarious!”, Kayleigh reciprocated the greeting with a genuine, flirty laugh, referring to Marty’s goofy tie design- cats with superimposed human smiles on their faces.
“Thanks! Yeah, even when I’m not at my job, I’m tied up with work.” Marty’s horrible pun evinces a playful grimace from Kayleigh, who squeezes in beside him at the bar, feeling at ease with the chemistry between the two first date acquaintances.
“So I’m going to follow the breadcrumbs and assume that you are a cat dentist, then?” inquires Kayleigh in a playful, semi-serious tone as the two order cocktails from the bar tender.
“Ha! That is a very sharp wit that you have, Miss,” Marty zings Kayleigh back, and continues with the facetious sarcasm, “Actually, I am a feline orthodontist, and all of the cats that you see on this tie are former patients of mine, whose crooked cat teeth I have straightened with precise, delicate hands, tiny tools and a desire to make my patients happy.”
“Wow, that is fascinating. You must receive pawsitive reviews all the time. How’s the return customer base? I mean, one cat probably comes back to you an extra 8 lifetimes, right?” Both Kayleigh and Marty laugh at the line of stupid cat jokes that they seem to be bonding over.
“In reality, I’m just a boring dentist for humans, though admittedly one who loves cats. Prior to this blind date, I had a date set up with my several cats. They were heartbroken when they had to eat their liver n kibble feast all alone.” Marty’s admission about his love for cats drew adoration from Kayleigh, who then proceeded to gush about Josie, her cat, and they agree that their second date will be a play date for the cats and dinner for the two of them.
“Speaking of cats, I did promise Josie that I wouldn’t be gone long, so as much as I would love to keep this going, we’ll have to break off for tonight, but I’ll see you again on Monday?” Kayleigh reaches for her purse as Marty pays for their two drinks.
“Yeah that sounds great! It was really nice to meet you Kayleigh. I had a great time. Next time we can talk about us and not about our cats,” Marty said with a wink. They hug goodbye, and as Marty pulls his hand away from Kayleigh’s back, his fingertips skate across the smooth skin of her exposed armpit.
“EEEEK!”, she squeals, spilling her purse everywhere. Embarrassed by her reaction and the ensuing mess, she quickly drops to the floor in the hopes of disappearing until the stares of the other patrons dissipate. Marty drops to her side and helps her gather her things.
“I am so sorry about that. I could have been more wary of my hands. You sure are ticklish though, huh?”
Kayleigh had a sneaking suspicion that Marty intentionally touched her under the arm, but wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt, maintains her calm with him as they finish gathering her things. “Really, it’s okay. It was an accident. And yes, I am very ticklish. And I am sensitive about how sensitive I am, so I would feel best if we just dropped the discussion about it.”
“Sure thing. And, again, I’m very sorry.” The attention of the patrons diverted back to their dates and drinks and Kayleigh’s belongings collected in her purse, she and Marty say one more goodbye outside the bar and each take a cab in opposite directions.
“He’s not like that. It was an unintentional brush of skin against skin. If you wanted to avoid the possibility of that happening, you should have just worn something with sleeves. He’s not like that... not like him.” Kayleigh’s mind was analyzing the incident at the bar... over and over again. She can’t be blamed: after all that Ron had put her through... the manipulation, the control, the... “No, not that. Don’t even think about that. Don’t associate Marty with that creep and his... proclivities. You had a good time tonight with a normal guy that you are going to see again for another vanilla, normal date.” Her mind settled that Marty was indeed an average, milquetoast guy, Kayleigh settled into her couch with her cat Feathers and a glass of wine to close out the night with her favorite trashy reality show.
*Phone vibrating* “Ugh. What do you waaaant? It’s so late.... What the fuck is this?” Expecting to see a boring text from her mom, Kayleigh was met with a disturbing, short message coded in emojis, coming from a number that she thought she recognized, but that had no name linked to her phone:
⏱4️⃣🪶🤣
Kayleigh’s stomach dropped. The message was clear to her, as was who sent it. After freezing in dread for a moment, a shiver up her spine snapped her to reality, and she opened the number pad on her phone and dialed “911”. Before she could hit send, however, she was startled by a series of knocks on her apartment door, the phone slipping from her hand and sliding across the smooth hardwood floor underneath the sofa. She froze... she listened. Another series of knocks, and then a familiar voice.
“Kayleigh? Kayleigh, it’s Marty. I have your work ID; you missed picking it up in the bar when you dropped your things.” Relieved to hear a friendly voice on the other side, she rushed over and threw the door open, oblivious to her present state of undress in a sports bra and boy shorts. “Well I have to be honest... I was expecting our second date to at least be athleisure dress code.”
Brushing off his playful banter, Kayleigh pleads, “Marty! You have to listen. I have to call the police. He’s coming for me. He’s coming and I’m terrified. He’s goi-“
Bemused and incredulous, Marty tries to get her to calm down. “Whoa! Kayleigh, slow down. What the hell are you talking about? Who’s coming? Who’s going to do what?”
Composing herself as best she can, her voice still wavering with anxiety, “My ex-boyfriend... he just sent me a message... he’s going to come here, and he’s going to...” Kayleigh cut off mid-sentence by a sudden, unnerving realization; her innocent brown eyes widened with fear. “Marty... how did you know where I live? I never told you whe-“ before she could finish, Marty had lunged at her, restraining her arms at her side with one arm and placing a cloth soaked in anesthetic over her mouth and nose. As she slipped under and went limp, the last thing she heard was Marty saying, “I’m really sorry about this Kayleigh... I don’t have a choice.”
“Unnhh...” Kayleigh was coming to, blurry vision and fuzzy memory making it difficult to discern where she was or what had happened. She remembered being at home... and then she dropped her phone while she was calling the police... and then Marty... “Unhhh... Marty? Marty?!”. The fog was lifting from her eyes and mind, and the terror of what had happened came flooding back to her as the visual of her present location and status became clear.
Kayleigh recognized the oversized king bed she was laying in, though it wasn’t her bed. It was the only piece of furniture in a proportionally large room, the walls of which were painted a cold, institution white, unadorned by any decor and void of natural light. The floors were covered with a thick, plush white carpet, made even softer with extra padding underneath to act as a sound barrier. Despite the icy appearance of the room, the thermostat must have been broken (the assumption that someone unfamiliar with Kayleigh’s situation might make), but she knew that it was intentionally shut off to allow the summer heat to permeate the walls.
“Sweat makes a great lubricant for the skin.” Ron’s exuberance in making that statement rushed to Kayleigh’s head, filling her with rage as she recalled the last time that she was here. Her attire had also been changed; when she had met Marty at her door, she was scantily clad in an athletic bra and boy shorts. Now, she had on a white, silken polyester button-up blouse and a black pencil skirt, both of which were far too snug to be hers.
“I know what I have; I don’t feel the need to flaunt it, especially at work,” Kayleigh used to tell her girlfriends when they would knock her for dressing too conservatively and not buying clothes to show off her 38E natural bust, contoured waist, curvy hips and athletic legs. No, she knew that what she was wearing was provided by him, part of his ritual. She also noticed that a pair of black nylons had been placed on her legs, and a pair of 4 inch stiletto heels strapped to her feet.
The sight of her feet brought her another horrific discovery: she had been bound with medical restraints, her stockinged feet stretched to the foot of the bed, her hands bound tight overhead, both ends pulled taut and allowing for no slack. She knew she was trapped, and the panic set in.
“Ron! I know you can hear me. Please just let me go! I’m sorry. I had no reason to ruin your career by outing you to the entire company about your tickle fetish. I was angry; I felt like I was falling in love with you, but I could not build a relationship with someone who always wanted to tickle me! We couldn’t have sex without you tying me up and torturing me the entire time. Surely you can understand where I’m coming from, or at least why I left you?!”
As she finished speaking, the bedroom door opened and Marty walked in. He carried with him a duffel bag, which was placed by the bedside as he looked pathetically at Kayleigh. “Marty, please...”
“Kayleigh, I’m sorry. There’s nothing that I can do. If I don’t do what he says, he’ll expose my tax-evasion and I’ll lose my practice. I know it’s not fair to you, and I truly hope you can forgive me, but I have my own interests to look out for.”
“You selfish son of a bitch! Fuck you, Marty! You’re going to do that fucker’s dirty work, torturing an innocent woman who has nothing to do with your personal finances to save your own skin? You’re as sick as he is!” Kayleigh continued to curse Marty out, and as she did so he, ignoring her pleas by placing earplugs in, began unpacking things from the duffel bag: two video cameras, what looked like a smaller, insulated lunchbox and some sort of oxygen canister with a mask.
“Oh my god! HEEEELP! HEEEEEELP MEEEEE!” Kayleigh began screaming and struggling against the bonds, though she knew it was useless. Having been here before, she knew that Ron’s house was on 10 acres of land in the middle of nowhere, and that the sound-proofing in the house matched that of any military installation. Having set up the video cameras, Marty approached the side of the bed; from his bag, he pulled a latex mask that resembled some demented cross between an old woman and one of Santa’s elves out and placed it over his face.
“I always cover my face for anonymity; plus, the creepiness of an expressionless face heightens the arousal of fear and therefore increases sensitivity.” Another disturbing quote from that sadist that always stuck with Kayleigh. Marty sat down beside her, sinking into the mattress. As his hand reached towards her taut waist, he made one more apology, seeing the fear in her eyes. He rested his palm on top of the fabric of the blouse for a few seconds, Kayleigh turning her body away from him as best he could, shutting her eyes and gritting her teeth for what she knew was inevitable.
Marty began with a single finger, very lightly dragging against the silk, the silk emulating every inch of movement and every bit of pressure added or reduced against Kayleigh’s sensitive skin, up and down her side, from her left hip up to the left side of her ribs. “Don’t laugh. Whatever you do, don’t laugh,” Kayleigh thought to herself. “That’s what he wants- what he gets off on.” She steeled her resolve as Marty ceased the light teasing and commenced a poking motion, jabbing his finger playfully into her ribs, each jab bringing her closer to losing her composure.
“You seem stressed, Kayleigh- don’t resist the sensations; laugh; enjoy yourself. You place so much stress on work and appeasing the pressures from your parents to be perfect- just let go.” It was as though Ron had trained Marty in this method of torment; starting slow with light touches to get her sensory system in overload, and then...
Marty stood up from her side after a few dozen pokes. Kayleigh hadn’t cracked... yet. She rolled to her back so she could see what Marty was doing. The expressionless face of the latex mask freaked her out; was he truly sympathetic to her plight and only continuing in his own interest, or was he smiling sadistically under that mask, beginning to enjoy tickling her the way that Ron had used to? Marty approached the foot of the bed and stood there, silently menacing Kayleigh for a minute, the blank eyes of the mask peering into her soul.
“Marty, please...” Kayleigh, fully aware that what could be hours of torture were just beginning, attempted to dissuade the figure looming over her from proceeding, to no avail. Proceed he did, to silently remove the high heels that Kayleigh was wearing, one at a time, this time very intentionally allowing his fingers to drag along the hyper sensitive flesh of her stockinged soles. She took a deep breath, strained against the bonds again, hoping through some deus ex machina that they would release her helpless feet; the only release that came to her was the first of countless outbursts of screaming laughter as Marty, no longer playing games with pokes and brief touches, formed his fingers into a claw shape and raked up and down helpless Kayleigh’s soles.
“Mmmmmnnnnnyeeeaaaaahaaaahaaa! Fuck fuhahahack!” She had lost control, and somewhere, Ron was getting off on her suffering. As her feet were bound in place, so too were Marty’s fingers bound to her soles, the indentations of his finger tips riding the curve of her arches, wriggling in between her toes and spidering from the sides to the tops. As much as a person can buck and bounce around while tethered, Kayleigh was doing it. Alas, for her, all it was doing was making her an increasingly sweatier, unkempt mess- her wavy, auburn hair stuck in strands to her glistening face, her now untucked blouse soaked through with perspiration, and the skirt riding up past her hips, bunched at her waist. After 10 minutes of sensational torment to Kayleigh’s poor feet, Marty released them. He stared at Kayleigh through the tiny eye holes on the mask, revealing nothing but horror to her. Kayleigh, trying to catch her breath, closed her eyes for a moment, preparing for what was to come. She then felt the bed shifting, and her eyes bolted open to see Marty straddling her waist, his hands slowly and methodically undoing the buttons on Kayleigh’s blouse.
“Oh my god! What are you doing, you fucking pervert?! Get off of me or I’ll...”
“You’ll laugh? Scream? Beg? How about all three at once?” Ron’s mocking voice played through her head. The memories were coming back to her; Kayleigh had lived this before, the procedure being the same every time; playful teasing, followed by aggressive foot tickling. She knew full well that with the undoing of her clothes, she was about to endure unbearable tickling on her upper body. The blouse opened, Kayleigh’s curvy body was fully exposed, her pendulous breasts barely contained within the intentionally undersized red push-up bra. As Marty rolled the sleeves of the blouse past Kayleigh’s shoulders, exposing her silky armpits, glistening with sweat, he dragged a finger across the smooth flesh, evincing a high pitched yelp and a screwed up face from Kayleigh.
“That was intentional,” he said to her insidiously, voice muffled from behind the mask, “and just so you know, it was intentional at the bar, too.” Kayleigh responded by pulling at her bonds once more, eyes growing wider as Marty, spidering his fingers just above her armpits, made his intentions clear.
As all five fingers of both hands made contact, sliding along the sweaty flesh, Kayleigh broke into a fit of silent, shaking laughter. For what seemed an endless period of time to Kayleigh, Marty’s digits waltzed the elegant ballroom floor of Kayleigh’s underarms, the only sounds in the room being the creaking of the bed as Kayleigh desperately pulled on the restraints in an attempt to draw her elbows down to hide this hypersensitive area. Her face contorted, mouth open in a hysterical, silent scream that never emanated; tears gushed from her eyes, alternating between wide open in panic and slamming shut in the hope that the torture would just magically disappear; all of the bouncing had caused both of her large breasts to bounce free of the push-up bra that had once contained them, exposing her soft, light pink nipples.
“Mahaheheeeehee- Martyheeeeheeee... ohahahap... n’ttsssssssss... eaheeeheet.” Kayleigh managed to elicit a few sounds after her lungs adjusted to the heavy breathing pattern brought on by her ticklish body. Marty understood what she was trying to say, and gave her a reprieve. “Oh god, Marty,” Kayleigh said through tear soaked eyes, her voice now hoarse from the earlier screaming and laughing, “please... please... please...” it was all she could muster. She thought he would have mercy on her; that he would see her suffering and realize that it wasn’t worth it to continue torturing her to save his own ass. He sat inert, straddling her thighs, her sweat-soaked torso inflating and deflating as she caught her breath. Marty removed the latex mask, revealing a devious look and menacing smile in his eyes.
“You deserve this, Kayleigh, and I’ve really begun to enjoy making you suffer. I know longer care about hiding my face from the camera; you have turned me into a tickle fiend tonight, and tonight, I have a free pass to indulge that without limits with my own personal tickle play thing.”
Having removed the mask, Marty was now free to bring his mouth into play, lowering his head over Kayleigh’s left armpit, and alternating using his tongue to press into and wiggle around on the sensitive spot and using his lips to blow long, drawn out raspberries, the effect enhanced by the moisture from Kayleigh’s perspiration and his own saliva.
“Naahahahahahahatttttstssssst thaahaaaahaaataaaahtssss! Ahahhhhhaaaahhaa! Nooohhooooohohhooaaa!” His mouth occupied, Marty used his hands to continue tickling Kayleigh’s other armpit with his fingers, pinching and flicking her sensitive nipples, and also introducing fingers into Kayleigh’s deep, hollow bellybutton, which further drove the poor girl insane. He teased her navel by making circles all across her abdomen, spidering his fingers the whole time, and then as he approached the cavernous void, he would pause, followed by quickly inserting a finger and wiggling it around, Kayleigh’s own sweat acting as the lubricant to enhance her torment.
Following several minutes of this method of torture, Marty ceased and raised his head from Kayleigh’s underarm, leaving a pool of saliva dripping from the stimulated region.
“Oh god. What next?” Kayleigh’s mind, exhausted as it was, was still racing; she had begun to dread the pauses in her torment almost as much as the tickling itself, for she knew it inevitably meant some new horror would be introduced to further enhance her suffering and her captor’s sadistic inclinations.
Marty stood up and walked over to the side of the bed where he had placed the effects he had removed from his bag earlier. Sensing his movement, Kayleigh shifted her brown, tear-soaked eyes to get a glimpse of Marty approaching the head of the bed again, this time with the canister that she saw him remove from the bag earlier, as well as the silly tie which he had worn to their date.
“My, Kayleigh, you’ve had quite an exhausting evening. So far.” This last part Marty added while unsnapping Kayleigh’s bra, fully releasing her large, sweat-coated breasts from their confines, the pendulous mounds flesh swaying back and forth before settling. Saving her breath, knowing that Marty wanted her to beg and plead, Kayleigh opted for a fierce glare, her fully naked torso now exposed. “Which is why I’ve decided that I’m not going to tickle you anymore- no more armpit raspberries or licking, no more rib-digging, no more raking across your soles- no, I’m going to help you relax. You’ve always been so uptight, as long as I’ve known you, you could never just chill out.”
“You’ve known me less than a day, asshole! What the fuck are you talking about?!” Kayleigh raged at Marty, who sat there calmly, as only someone who knows they are in complete control can. As the sweat beaded on her face, dripped down her nude breasts and pooled in her bellybutton, her anger turned into terror, the realization that what Marty had just said was not a lie, but an admission of truth. “You... but... how... what...”
“Well, now there’s a sentence. I’m really surprised it took you this long, Kayleigh, between the intentional armpit tickle in the bar, the way I knew where you lived, how I knew about your love of cats, the exact repetition of the same tickle process that we’ve gone through before... I guess between the anesthesia and being driven almost insane with tickle torture, you really haven’t had much time to think of anything but your own suffering. Yes, it’s me, Kayleigh. After you outed me for my fetish, I opted for facial reconstruction and vocal change surgery to change my appearance... all so that I could trick you back into my tickling fingers. There is no Marty- just me.”
Ron’s smugness in having duped Kayleigh with such an extreme, far fetched plan, solely to get her back brought her to the boiling point, but before she could verbally assail him, he placed the mask attached to the container over her face and turned the nozzle on. “This is nitrous oxide, Kayleigh. It will definitely help you relax, and it will definitely make you even more giggly and sensitive for the rest of our time together.” The infernal fire in Kayleigh’s eyes began to extinguish as the gas filled her lungs, her breasts rising and falling with each deep breath she took. It didn’t take long for her to become a giggly, hysterical wreck, now without anyone even touching her.
“Heehaheeeha... hmmahameeme... heeheeheeaha. You’ve... heheehe... you’ve poisoned meeeheeehaha. You’re go... gohahaha... going to jeeeheeheeail.” The gas had taken full effect, Kayleigh slurring her words like a drunken college girl. “Youhoohooohee... you’re a baahaaahaad perheeeherrson... I’m... Iheeheeehee... me tooohhoooohoo. I deeeheeeseerve to beeheee... tihihickled.”
Ron looked bemused at the hysterical, curvy, topless, woman in front of him. He felt that now was the time to initiate his next plan. “Well, I’ve already promised that I wouldn’t tickle you any more tonight, Kayleigh. But if it’s tickles you want, it’s tickles you’ll get.” He took the neck tie that Kayleigh loved so much when he was posing as Marty earlier and used it to blindfold Kayleigh. “Since you now want so badly to be tickled, we will just have to make you even more ticklish by removing your sense of sight. Won’t that be fun?!”
From the bag, Ron also pulled a container of ice cream. Unable to see, Kayleigh lay there, writhing and giggling under the influence of the nitrous oxide, blind to the sensations she was about to feel. Ron began placing large dollops of ice cream all over Kayleigh’s body, it melting quickly over her hot, sweaty figure, made even more ticklish by the temperature difference between the air around them and the ice cream, as well as the drips coming from the dessert.
“Eeeeaaaghhaha! Oooh that teehihickles! So cohohold! But I’ll nehehever beg, you bahahahahstard! Ahhhhhhh!” Upon covering her entire upper body with cold, dripping ice cream, Ron proceeded to remove the last vestiges of decency Kayleigh had left- first, by pulling her skirt fully off, then ripping the nylons, allowing the sweaty flesh on her thighs to glisten in the light, and finally fully exposing her by removing the thong that she was wearing.
“No! No! No! This is assault. Don’t you dare touch me down there, you rapist!”
Ron ignored Kayleigh’s reprimand; he had no intention of laying hands on her pussy. Instead he just continued placing the ice cream in large scoops, three right in her groin so that her neatly trimmed nethers soon had a pool of melted ice cream accumulated, down her thighs and then by hand, smearing ice cream all over her now nude feet.
“Ughehehe! This is fuhuhuhacking gross! I’m all stiihihicky you fuck! Are you stihhhill there?! Ahahanswer me!”. Upon emptying the carton of ice cream, Ron stood up and walked over to the door. Kayleigh was now covered neck to toe with cold, sticky, melting ice cream. This was a new form of torture, one that she had not experienced before.
“Kayleigh, my dear, it is late, and I am tired. I’m going to go to bed, but before I do, I just want you to know that I will check on you in the morning after your... friends have visited with you.”
“Friehehends? What are you talking about? Whohoohoo else is heeeheere?! Heeheeheelp me pleeeheease, whoever you are!” She then felt several light disturbances on the bed, too light to be human. There she lay, blindfolded and naked, her voluptuous body covered in melting ice cream, giggling but at the same time terrified. The room was quiet as Ron closed the door.
*Meow* *Meow meow meow* * Meow meow meow meow*
“Hheehe! No, stohahahop that! Bad kihihitties! Nooooohoohahahahaha! Stop licking there! Oohhhhahaha fahahahuck not my armpits! Eeeehahaahahahahahaha leave my nipples alohahahahahane! Get ouhahahaout of my puhuhuhssy! Nohahahat the tohooohoooes!
NOHAGAGAGAHAHAHAHAHAHAHSHSHSSSSSS!”
Kayleigh was left to the mercy of her inhuman tormentors. Her screams and laughter drew no response from them except more excited licking with their rough tongues- tongues in every ticklish nook and cranny of her body. She jerked and writhed, laughed and screamed and fell into a state of hysteria, and still the cats kept licking, cleaning every bit of ice cream off of her hypersensitive body. There must have been a few dozen of them, all at once, tickling her senseless. She had no idea how long they would keep licking, but she didn’t have a choice- all she could do was keep laughing... all night long.
