Lastlaugh1027
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Hi all, longtime lurker. This is my first attempt at writing tickle fiction, and any feedback is appreciated. I love intense M/M tickle torture stories, and I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it! Part 2 coming soon.
------------------------------------------------------------
You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. This is what you wanted, you remind yourself. You've been aching for this for ages.
You are lying face-up on a specially built table, a modern torture rack really, with both of your arms stretched tight above your head. Your wrists are buckled into leather cuffs, affixed to two separate cranks that have been wound to just before the point of discomfort. Straps secure your arms to the table, just above your elbows. A leather strap across your chest, just below your nipples, and another at your hips ensure that your upper body can't move at all. Your legs are parted just a bit, with each ankle secured in its own wood stockade at the far end of the table. Your bare feet stick out the other side, helpless. You flap them up and down a bit in nervous anticipation- it's one of the few body parts you can still move. Your hosts have strapped your legs down as well, right above and below each knee. You're not going anywhere.
Have you gotten yourself in over your head this time? You’ve had tickle sessions before, you’ve even been tied pretty restrictively for some of them, but you’ve never done anything like this before. Your mind races in anticipation of the tickle session that lays before you- a million thoughts a minute but you keep coming back to the personals ad you’d posted on several tickling forums:
“M Lee seeking truly sadistic Ler for extended tickle torture session”
Your post described exactly what you wanted to have done to you. How you want to be held in captivity for days as someone’s tickle slave. How you wanted absolutely no safeword, no way to make the torture end. How you want to find your ticklish limits and be pushed far past them. You were thrilled when Steve reached out to you, saying that he and his husband Trav had just the set-up to make your fantasy a reality, and were you still interested?
Their house was about an hours drive away from you, an hour that went by painfully slowly as you made your way there. You met Steve and Trav at a bar near their place and hit it off with them immediately. The three of you spent two hours chatting, first about basic intro stuff, then about what exactly it was you wanted out of this session. You explained to them how you're an experienced Lee whose longest session so far had been six hours. That Ler had driven you to the brink of insanity but you were looking for someone to push you beyond it. They told you about the last boy that had come to their tickle chamber, how they'd tortured him so ruthlessly that he still hasn't returned their messages.
"I sure hope he's okay," Steve said with a wicked grin. You'd been aroused for most of the conversation, and his evil smirk made your cock twitch painfully against your pants. You felt a wet spot of precum grow…
Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the dungeons' heavy door opening and then closing. You turn your head to the left, straining your neck to peek over your bound bicep to see Steve approaching you alone.
"How's our little tickle slave feeling?" He asks with an air of faux concern. He's standing right next to you, leaning in a carefree manner on the table next to your left arm. "Did Trav do a good job securing you? Are you comfortable?"
You nod and say you're feeling good, and you think you're ready.
“You think you’re ready?” he asks. “I need to know that you’re 100% ready and willing to endure what’s about to happen to you. I don’t usually offer this out at this point, but since you’ve requested such an intense level of domination I’m going to give you one last chance to modify our agreement.” He produces the written agreement you had all signed, and reads the summary to you:
“Lee agrees to be held in captivity by Lers for no less than 72 hours. During the captivity Lee will endure as much tickle torture as Lers want to subject him to. There are no promised breaks, no way to end the torture early. Lers will keep Lee hydrated and nourished, but beyond that Lee has no rights until he is released from his captivity.”
Steve sets the papers down and looks into your eyes. “I ask you again, are you ready for this, or do you want to leave? Last chance, slave.”
You take a deep breath and reply, “I’m ready.”
“Well okay then. Let’s begin.” He grabs a large blindfold from a table that is just out of your view and secures it over your eyes. Enveloped in darkness you feel a new strap being drawn over the blindfold, securing your head to the table. Now the only parts of your body that can move at all are your bound hands and your helpless, naked feet.
Steve speaks again. He is standing directly over your head, between your outstretched arms. He rests his warm hands on your upper arms, inches above your helpless armpits. “I’m glad you shaved for us, slave. Hair really just gets in the way of what we’re trying to accomplish here. Trav in particular loves a hairless body. He has some errands to run, but he’ll join us soon enough. Until then it’s just you and me.”
He gently runs a single finger up and down the tender skin of each of your arms, from your bound elbow to just above your armpit, and back up again. You breathe deeply, anticipating the torture that you know is coming. Without warning or another word he allows each finger to descend into the hollows of your armpits, eliciting a gasp from your lips. He traces soft circles around your smooth, helpless armpits, and you feel the ticklish sensation building inside you. You clamp your mouth shut, resisting the already overwhelming urge to laugh or cry out. You know this is only the beginning, and you don’t want to succumb to the torture so quickly.
“So you’re going to play tough, are you?” Steve asks after a few minutes of silently tracing your armpits. “You can hold it in all you like, but we’ll break you.” He leans down, inches away from your head, and whispers in your ear as he holds his fingers still in your armpits. “We break everyone who comes into this room. Everyone laughs and cries and begs, and then we tickle them some more. Your body no longer belongs to you. You’re just a tickle toy, here for mine and Trav’s amusement.” With that he renews his attack on your armpit, this time amplified. Two or three fingers, you can’t really be sure, tickle each of your exposed armpits, forcing your first burst of laughter to ask from your lips.
“There he is!” Steve teases. “Our little slave is ready to play!” He continues this introductory attack on your armpits, occasionally sliding his expert fingers back up your arms, but never straying too long from your sensitive hollows. You’re laughing for real now, the ticklish sensations growing stronger with each passing minute. You try to pull your arms down, you try to buck from side to side, but the bondage holds strong. You realize there is nothing you can do to stop this tickle torture, and it’s only just begun.
Steve’s fingers dance from your armpit down your sides a bit, gently tickling your tender flash. You giggle and laugh like a girl, still loving every second of it but wondering when he might take a break. Blindfolded still, you have no idea how long the tickling has gone on. There is no sense of time here anymore, only the electric tickling sensations of Steve playing your armpits and sides like a piano. Your laughter builds in intensity as he drags his fingers over your nipples for the first time, and your first plea escapes your lips.
“Please!” you manage through your helpless laughter. “Please!”
“Please what my little tickle slave?” Steve’s fingers rest gently on each of your horribly sensitive nipples. “Please tickle torture your nipples? How about you say it for me slave. Say, ‘Please tickle my nipples, sir.’” You shake your head defiantly- you’re not going to beg him to torture such a sensitive spot. He drums his fingers on your sides impatiently.
“You’d better do exactly as I say slave, or else you’re going to be punished. And I promise you, you are not going to like how we punish our slaves here. Now I say it again- beg me to tickle your nipples!”
Your mind races. Punished? What could they possibly do to punish you?? What could be more torturous than what you’re already willingly enduring? You decide you really don’t want to find out, and reluctantly, you say, “P-please tickle my nipples, sir.”
Before you’ve finished saying the word sir you feel stiff feathers tracing circles around your sensitive nipples. But Steve’s hands still rest on your sides- Trav must have come into the room while you were laughing loudly. Your nipples are outrageously sensitive, and these feathers instantly drive you crazy. You begin to beg through your laughter, “No no no no no no no,” but you hear both of your tormentors laugh at your helplessness. Without warning Steve begins tickling your armpits again, with much more fury this time, stealing any words from your breath and replacing them only with desperate laughter.
Abruptly, the tickling stops. You greedily suck in your first big breaths in ages, residual giggles still spilling from your mouth. Steve and Trav begin talking amongst themselves.
"He's sure a ticklish one," Steve says with a chuckle. Your mind's eye pictures his evil grin from the bar as you desperately catch your breath.
"He sure is," Trav responds, his voice a little higher pitched, with a slight lisp. "I'm glad I strapped him down tight, otherwise he'd be bucking all over the place."
"I love hearing his laughs but I think it's time we gag him," Steve says. "Our toys always make the most delicious sounds when they can't speak."
As you open your mouth to protest a ball is shoved into your mouth. The strap holding your head is loosened just enough for the gag to be fastened securely behind your head with two straps.
"Now slave," Steve explains, "you don't know this yet but we're playing a little game right now. We've had a timer running, a six hour timer- the length of your longest session so far. Believe it or not you've already lasted 45 minutes!"
Your heart sinks. You would've guessed you'd been tickled for at least twice as long by now. You feel sweat beading all over your body and you find yourself wishing that the dungeon's air was just a little cooler.
"Of course we're going to tickle you for much, much longer over the next three days, but if you can last the full six hours without passing out you'll be rewarded with a nice long break, and maybe another treat- if you're really good." Steve's voice drops and he leans close to your ear again. "But if you do pass out the six hour timer starts over. And as soon as you wake back up your torture will begin again. We'll keep tickling you relentlessly until you can last a full six hour stretch. And if you can't, well, the only rest you'll receive in the next three days will be while you're passed out!"
For the first time you feel pure terror. You come to the awful realization of just how sadistic these two ticklers really are. You knew what you were asking for when you came here, but now, hearing these words as you're helplessly strapped to this devious table, you fully feel the depth of your predicament. You hear a chair being placed by your feet and you feel your toes being tied back to the stocks, one by one, eliminating the last bit of freedom from your most sensitive spot. You moan into your gag as you feel a lubricant being rubbed onto your right foot, then your left. You know there's no use in begging as you feel the same lubricant being applied to your armpits, already slick with sweat. Even if you could get the words out you know these men would show you no mercy, and for the first time since you were a child you silently pray. There are no atheists in foxholes, and you beg for the strength to make it through the rest of the six hours and beyond. A lone fingernail runs from your heel to the ball of your right foot, as more fingers renew their assault on your poor armpits.
Your laughter rings out with renewed desperation as your torture really begins.
------------------------------------------------------------
You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. This is what you wanted, you remind yourself. You've been aching for this for ages.
You are lying face-up on a specially built table, a modern torture rack really, with both of your arms stretched tight above your head. Your wrists are buckled into leather cuffs, affixed to two separate cranks that have been wound to just before the point of discomfort. Straps secure your arms to the table, just above your elbows. A leather strap across your chest, just below your nipples, and another at your hips ensure that your upper body can't move at all. Your legs are parted just a bit, with each ankle secured in its own wood stockade at the far end of the table. Your bare feet stick out the other side, helpless. You flap them up and down a bit in nervous anticipation- it's one of the few body parts you can still move. Your hosts have strapped your legs down as well, right above and below each knee. You're not going anywhere.
Have you gotten yourself in over your head this time? You’ve had tickle sessions before, you’ve even been tied pretty restrictively for some of them, but you’ve never done anything like this before. Your mind races in anticipation of the tickle session that lays before you- a million thoughts a minute but you keep coming back to the personals ad you’d posted on several tickling forums:
“M Lee seeking truly sadistic Ler for extended tickle torture session”
Your post described exactly what you wanted to have done to you. How you want to be held in captivity for days as someone’s tickle slave. How you wanted absolutely no safeword, no way to make the torture end. How you want to find your ticklish limits and be pushed far past them. You were thrilled when Steve reached out to you, saying that he and his husband Trav had just the set-up to make your fantasy a reality, and were you still interested?
Their house was about an hours drive away from you, an hour that went by painfully slowly as you made your way there. You met Steve and Trav at a bar near their place and hit it off with them immediately. The three of you spent two hours chatting, first about basic intro stuff, then about what exactly it was you wanted out of this session. You explained to them how you're an experienced Lee whose longest session so far had been six hours. That Ler had driven you to the brink of insanity but you were looking for someone to push you beyond it. They told you about the last boy that had come to their tickle chamber, how they'd tortured him so ruthlessly that he still hasn't returned their messages.
"I sure hope he's okay," Steve said with a wicked grin. You'd been aroused for most of the conversation, and his evil smirk made your cock twitch painfully against your pants. You felt a wet spot of precum grow…
Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the dungeons' heavy door opening and then closing. You turn your head to the left, straining your neck to peek over your bound bicep to see Steve approaching you alone.
"How's our little tickle slave feeling?" He asks with an air of faux concern. He's standing right next to you, leaning in a carefree manner on the table next to your left arm. "Did Trav do a good job securing you? Are you comfortable?"
You nod and say you're feeling good, and you think you're ready.
“You think you’re ready?” he asks. “I need to know that you’re 100% ready and willing to endure what’s about to happen to you. I don’t usually offer this out at this point, but since you’ve requested such an intense level of domination I’m going to give you one last chance to modify our agreement.” He produces the written agreement you had all signed, and reads the summary to you:
“Lee agrees to be held in captivity by Lers for no less than 72 hours. During the captivity Lee will endure as much tickle torture as Lers want to subject him to. There are no promised breaks, no way to end the torture early. Lers will keep Lee hydrated and nourished, but beyond that Lee has no rights until he is released from his captivity.”
Steve sets the papers down and looks into your eyes. “I ask you again, are you ready for this, or do you want to leave? Last chance, slave.”
You take a deep breath and reply, “I’m ready.”
“Well okay then. Let’s begin.” He grabs a large blindfold from a table that is just out of your view and secures it over your eyes. Enveloped in darkness you feel a new strap being drawn over the blindfold, securing your head to the table. Now the only parts of your body that can move at all are your bound hands and your helpless, naked feet.
Steve speaks again. He is standing directly over your head, between your outstretched arms. He rests his warm hands on your upper arms, inches above your helpless armpits. “I’m glad you shaved for us, slave. Hair really just gets in the way of what we’re trying to accomplish here. Trav in particular loves a hairless body. He has some errands to run, but he’ll join us soon enough. Until then it’s just you and me.”
He gently runs a single finger up and down the tender skin of each of your arms, from your bound elbow to just above your armpit, and back up again. You breathe deeply, anticipating the torture that you know is coming. Without warning or another word he allows each finger to descend into the hollows of your armpits, eliciting a gasp from your lips. He traces soft circles around your smooth, helpless armpits, and you feel the ticklish sensation building inside you. You clamp your mouth shut, resisting the already overwhelming urge to laugh or cry out. You know this is only the beginning, and you don’t want to succumb to the torture so quickly.
“So you’re going to play tough, are you?” Steve asks after a few minutes of silently tracing your armpits. “You can hold it in all you like, but we’ll break you.” He leans down, inches away from your head, and whispers in your ear as he holds his fingers still in your armpits. “We break everyone who comes into this room. Everyone laughs and cries and begs, and then we tickle them some more. Your body no longer belongs to you. You’re just a tickle toy, here for mine and Trav’s amusement.” With that he renews his attack on your armpit, this time amplified. Two or three fingers, you can’t really be sure, tickle each of your exposed armpits, forcing your first burst of laughter to ask from your lips.
“There he is!” Steve teases. “Our little slave is ready to play!” He continues this introductory attack on your armpits, occasionally sliding his expert fingers back up your arms, but never straying too long from your sensitive hollows. You’re laughing for real now, the ticklish sensations growing stronger with each passing minute. You try to pull your arms down, you try to buck from side to side, but the bondage holds strong. You realize there is nothing you can do to stop this tickle torture, and it’s only just begun.
Steve’s fingers dance from your armpit down your sides a bit, gently tickling your tender flash. You giggle and laugh like a girl, still loving every second of it but wondering when he might take a break. Blindfolded still, you have no idea how long the tickling has gone on. There is no sense of time here anymore, only the electric tickling sensations of Steve playing your armpits and sides like a piano. Your laughter builds in intensity as he drags his fingers over your nipples for the first time, and your first plea escapes your lips.
“Please!” you manage through your helpless laughter. “Please!”
“Please what my little tickle slave?” Steve’s fingers rest gently on each of your horribly sensitive nipples. “Please tickle torture your nipples? How about you say it for me slave. Say, ‘Please tickle my nipples, sir.’” You shake your head defiantly- you’re not going to beg him to torture such a sensitive spot. He drums his fingers on your sides impatiently.
“You’d better do exactly as I say slave, or else you’re going to be punished. And I promise you, you are not going to like how we punish our slaves here. Now I say it again- beg me to tickle your nipples!”
Your mind races. Punished? What could they possibly do to punish you?? What could be more torturous than what you’re already willingly enduring? You decide you really don’t want to find out, and reluctantly, you say, “P-please tickle my nipples, sir.”
Before you’ve finished saying the word sir you feel stiff feathers tracing circles around your sensitive nipples. But Steve’s hands still rest on your sides- Trav must have come into the room while you were laughing loudly. Your nipples are outrageously sensitive, and these feathers instantly drive you crazy. You begin to beg through your laughter, “No no no no no no no,” but you hear both of your tormentors laugh at your helplessness. Without warning Steve begins tickling your armpits again, with much more fury this time, stealing any words from your breath and replacing them only with desperate laughter.
Abruptly, the tickling stops. You greedily suck in your first big breaths in ages, residual giggles still spilling from your mouth. Steve and Trav begin talking amongst themselves.
"He's sure a ticklish one," Steve says with a chuckle. Your mind's eye pictures his evil grin from the bar as you desperately catch your breath.
"He sure is," Trav responds, his voice a little higher pitched, with a slight lisp. "I'm glad I strapped him down tight, otherwise he'd be bucking all over the place."
"I love hearing his laughs but I think it's time we gag him," Steve says. "Our toys always make the most delicious sounds when they can't speak."
As you open your mouth to protest a ball is shoved into your mouth. The strap holding your head is loosened just enough for the gag to be fastened securely behind your head with two straps.
"Now slave," Steve explains, "you don't know this yet but we're playing a little game right now. We've had a timer running, a six hour timer- the length of your longest session so far. Believe it or not you've already lasted 45 minutes!"
Your heart sinks. You would've guessed you'd been tickled for at least twice as long by now. You feel sweat beading all over your body and you find yourself wishing that the dungeon's air was just a little cooler.
"Of course we're going to tickle you for much, much longer over the next three days, but if you can last the full six hours without passing out you'll be rewarded with a nice long break, and maybe another treat- if you're really good." Steve's voice drops and he leans close to your ear again. "But if you do pass out the six hour timer starts over. And as soon as you wake back up your torture will begin again. We'll keep tickling you relentlessly until you can last a full six hour stretch. And if you can't, well, the only rest you'll receive in the next three days will be while you're passed out!"
For the first time you feel pure terror. You come to the awful realization of just how sadistic these two ticklers really are. You knew what you were asking for when you came here, but now, hearing these words as you're helplessly strapped to this devious table, you fully feel the depth of your predicament. You hear a chair being placed by your feet and you feel your toes being tied back to the stocks, one by one, eliminating the last bit of freedom from your most sensitive spot. You moan into your gag as you feel a lubricant being rubbed onto your right foot, then your left. You know there's no use in begging as you feel the same lubricant being applied to your armpits, already slick with sweat. Even if you could get the words out you know these men would show you no mercy, and for the first time since you were a child you silently pray. There are no atheists in foxholes, and you beg for the strength to make it through the rest of the six hours and beyond. A lone fingernail runs from your heel to the ball of your right foot, as more fingers renew their assault on your poor armpits.
Your laughter rings out with renewed desperation as your torture really begins.
