On Wednesday, I graduate from College. On that day I wear my cap and gown, I can only pray for a much greater reward than my diploma. You see, for the last four years, I have been my roommate’s tickle slave, and I’m hoping that the end of my studies will mean the end of my torture. Even as I hope this I’m afraid that my mistress will find a way to keep me bound to her when we enter the real world. After all, I have tried to escape from her since the beginning of my freshman year to no avail. Melissa has always proven stronger, smarter and craftier than I.
I’m not sure what part of my slavery was the worst, having my delicate body ravaged by her tickling fingers over and over again or my forced submission to Mistress Melissa’s every whim. It’s a hard thing realizing that your independence, free will and sexuality can be stolen from you by such a soft touch! It makes you feel far more worthless than steel bars and cement walls ever could.
I can remember myself as I was, a naïve eighteen-year-old freshman from a small mid-western town. My golden hair was cut short, in a somewhat severe style, and my clothes would have been more appropriate on a librarian than a teen-ager leaving home for the first time. Yet I don’t feel embarrassed by my lack of fashion sense, but envious of my modesty and innocence. My body was my own then, not the property of someone else.
I should have known something was different about Melissa from the beginning. Her eyes lingered over me too long when I was in my tight pajamas, or coming back from the shower wrapped in my white towel. It seemed like her fingers were hungry to touch me, brushing my hand or resting on my shoulder just a bit to often to be casual. But like I said, I had come from a conservative family and town where such things were unknown. It would have taken an earth-shattering event to make me realize she was anything other than a typical boy crazy teen-ager.
Melissa avoided such an event for the first month of the school year. Maybe she was busy watching me and plotting her trap. Its possible Melissa had no plan and just took advantage of my spectacular weakness when she learned about it on that late September afternoon. All I know was that for those first glorious thirty days I was a normal college student.
What got me into trouble was that I was a slob. You see, my mother was one of the few I knew who didn’t work outside of the house. She picked up after us and kept the house neat as a pin. When I moved into the dorm with Melissa, I had never had to worry about cleaning up my room or even making my bed. Needless to say, our dorm room was always cluttered with my dirty clothes, books and garbage. This made Melissa furious.
Melissa did talk to me about it nicely several times, and I did make some efforts to be a cleaner person. But with all stress of college and trying to adjust to my new freedom, there just never seemed to be enough hours in that day. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had become a neater person and avoided the incident. Would I have remained free? That’s a question that will haunt me forever.
It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon, and I was trying to quickly finish a research paper so I could experience some of it. I had forgotten the promises I had made to Melissa just that morning to clean up. It wasn’t the first time I had made and broken those same promises. When she came back to the room to get ready for dinner, Melissa went threw the roof.
“I can’t live like this, Julie!” she shouted at one point, “You’re like a little girl! You’re just not responsible! Do you really think I’m your mother? That I’m going to pick up after you?”
It was terrifying listening to Melissa yell. After all, I was a mousy 110 pounds, while she was a volleyball player, more than a foot taller than I was and at least fifty extra pounds of muscles. I knew her legs were strong enough to push her high over the net while the apparently soft outlines of her biceps concealed enough brawn to spike a ball down an opponent’s throat. I wanted to hide under my bed.
“So what am I going to do, Julie?” Melissa continued her rant, “I can’t talk to you! You just don’t listen! If I had acted like this in my house, my mother would have spanked me until my butt was red! Should I spank you?”
That made me mad. My mom had only spanked me once in my life, but I still resented it greatly.
I could feel my fear subside, and a red veil seemed to come over my eyes.
“Don’t you dare touch me!” I screamed, standing as tall as I could and trying to look her in the eye, “I won’t be treated like a baby!” I pushed my way past her and made for the door. At that point, all I wanted to do was get away from this room and from Melissa.
“Oh you aren’t going anywhere!” Melissa yelled back. She grabbed my waist with both hands, trying to pull me backwards.
Maybe, even as mad as she was, Melissa was still conscious of not hurting me. Maybe I had taken her by surprise, and Melissa hadn’t been able to get as firm of a grip on me as she wanted. Either way, Melissa’s fingers dug into my hipbones, not hard enough to cause me pain, but with ample pressure to tickle.
Taken completely by surprise, I squealed in a high pitched, giggly voice. I instinctively twisted my hips to shake Melissa’s hands free and was now turned around facing my attacker. All of the rage had fled from Melissa’s face. It had been replaced with a sly smile and a cunning look in her eye.
“Is the little girl ticklish?” Melissa asked, still smiling.
My blood was replaced with ice water. The dorm room, which was not much bigger than a walk-in closet, suddenly seemed a lot smaller. I bolted for the door, and pulled it open with all my might. Melissa’s hand reached over my head and slammed it shut.
“Not so fast, Julie,” Melissa said. Her other hand grabbed my side and began dancing her fingers up and down. The T-shirt I was wearing protected my some, but the tickles still shot threw my body and made my knees weak.
Instinctively, I pulled my arms down to cover my sides, but that only trapped those dancing fingers closer to my flesh. Melissa’s other hand plunged into my belly and I screamed as she wiggled her fingers up and down.
“Melissa he eheh ehe ehe eeh nawwwwo ehe ehehee eheh ehh stawwwp hehe ehhehhe …” I laughed. I tried to knock away the hand tickling my belly, but Melissa easily avoided my clumsy attempts, keeping her fingers tickling me through my shirt.
I tried to pull away from her, to run away, but I was trapped. Melissa was right behind me, and the door inches in front of me. To open the door, I’d have to move my arms and let Melissa tickle my unprotected sides. I didn’t have the willpower to open myself up to such torture.
“I wish I had know you were such a ticklish little girl earlier, Julie,” Melissa whispered into my ear, her hot breath tickling me even more, “Think of all the fun we could be having.” Both her hands were on my belly now. They were lightly tracing the lettering and design on my shirt. I wrapped both my arms around my middle, trying to shield myself. Melissa just started poking her fingers through the gaps above and below my arms.
No matter how I moved my arms, there were always gaps. Once I even left my belly button uncovered, and paid dearly for that as Melissa’s pinky drilled into it for several minutes. My laughter never stopped and my breath became ragged.
“I think I’ve got you warmed up now,” Melissa whispered into my ear again, “Are you ready for some real fun?”
“Noooo, ahah ahah nawwooo funn ha aha ahah ahah naawwoo hahah afunnnn!!!!” I giggled futilely. Melissa pulled me backwards while she swept my legs out from under me. I was falling, and would have hit the ground hard, but Melissa caught me and laid me gently on my back. Before I could roll away, Melissa was sitting on me, straddling my waist with her thighs.
“Please Melissa, no more,” I gasped, “I’ll clean it up, I promise!” I held my hands out in front of me, trying to keep her away.
“You have no idea what you’ll do when I’m done with you,” Melissa said evilly. She picked up a pair of pantyhose that I had left lying on the floor. “Let me show you what happens to little girls who can’t pick up their clothes.”
Melissa surpassed me. When she attacked she didn’t go for my sides or belly. Instead she grabbed my wrists. Her fingers were like iron. Melissa had no problem holding my hands while she wrapped the pantyhose around my wrists, tying them together.
“Melissa!” I screamed, “What are you doing?!”
“Getting you ready for more fun, Julie,” she said simply. With my wrists secured, Melissa stood up, leaned over my head and wound the other end of the pantyhose around the leg of my bed. She used the leg of the bed like a pulley, pulling the hose until my arms were forced way over my head. Then Melissa tied it off, making sure the hose was as taut as possible.
Now it was my turn to tug and pull. I did everything I could, but my hands remained a good foot above my head. I was in deep trouble!
“Now then,” Melissa said, straddling me again wiggling her fingers at me, “I think we’re ready.”
“Oh god no,” I pleaded, “Please no, Melissa. Please! I hate being tickled! I hate it! This isn’t a game for me. I’m not ready for this!”
“You know, you’re right Julie, you’re not ready.” Hope built up in me for just a second. Then Melissa reached down, grabbed a hold of my T-shirt, and ripped it in half. It was an old shirt, good only for wearing around the dorm, so it tore easily. Then Melissa stripped to two torn halves from my body, leaving me wearing only my pink bra.
“Now we are finally ready.”
This had gone too far. I took in a deep breath, intending on screaming ‘fire’ or ‘rape’ or anything else that would have brought help.
Melissa was too quick for me. Before I could yell, she flicked her fingers over my bare belly. I was unprepared for her touch on my unprotected skin. It was electric! I started to giggle, and my deep breath escaped out of my lungs unused.
“Silly Julie,” Melissa taunted, “Doesn’t she know she can’t scream without air?” Her fingers kept up their light dance across my tummy, keeping me giggling while my torso twisted and turned, trying to escape her devilish touch.
“heh eheh eheheheh pleeeeaaseee ehe ehehehehe Meeehehehehlisssaaa ehe ehe ehh heheheheheh nawwwoooo nooooo hehe eheh morreeheheheh morrreeeee! Can’t stand he eheh eheh!!”
“Of course you can’t stand up silly! I’m sitting on you!” With so little slack in the panty hose holding my hands, I could only squirm a few inches at best. I couldn’t escape those fingers for a second!
“Now do you see why you should have put your clothes away?” Melissa asked, her fingers drawing feather light circles over my belly. It was maddening! All I could do was keep giggling, babbling inane apologies when I had enough breath.
“Maybe I should count your ribbies?” Melissa taunted. She moved her hands up to my sides, but instead of tickling lightly, she squeezed, digging her fingertips into my ribs.
It felt like every muscle in my body flexed. As a laughing fit overcame me, my body spasmed, and I instinctively thrust my hips forward, grinding my womanhood against Melissa’s.
“Oooh! I like this,” Melissa proclaimed. She kept pinching my ribs, forcing me to laugh harder and harder while I kept grinding my body against hers. Every squeeze made my bottom lift off the ground. I tried to fight the reaction, but it was built in, like when the doctor bangs your knee with the rubber hammer.
Melissa moved her hands up and down my sides, squeezing each rib separately and gauging my reaction. The more ticklish the rib, the harder I thrust my body, so she kept doing those, over and over again.
Then she found the spot. It was about half way up my left ribcage. When she dug her fingers into it, I screamed fervently, laughter bubbling out of me, as my body started bouncing up and down like a super ball. It was sheer agony!
By the time Melissa was finished, my muscles were sore, I was out of breath, and my brow was covered with sweat. As I recovered, breathing deeply, I didn’t even notice Melissa get of my and reach into one of her dresser drawers. Things might have gone differently if I had.
I didn’t become aware of Melissa until she firmly straddled my legs once more. “Boy,” she said, “If I wasn’t wearing these jeans, I think I might have gotten off from all that rubbing!” Still naïve, I wasn’t sure if she was kidding or not.
“Please…no…more,” I said in an exhausted, weak voice. I still thought this was some kind of bad joke, one Melissa would apologize for once she realized how much I truly hated being tickled.
“Lets try one more tickle spot Julie, just to make sure you know I’m serious. How about your underarms?”
My eyes must have widened to the size of dinner plates when she said that. I could feel my skin go white. My armpits were extremely ticklish. They had been the victims of many quick tickles over the years. Now, of course, I couldn’t simply pull down my arms to protect them. My pits were wide open, defenseless.
“Julie likes that idea,” Melissa smiled easily. She ran one finger across my left underarm, slowly from my biceps to my ribs. I broke into a huge smile, and tittered drunkenly.
“So soft, so clean,” Melissa practically purred, “You must take excellent care of these. Do you use baby powder? I bet they never see the sun.”
I could only look at her in horror as I frantically tried to rip my hands free from the pantyhose. “Don’t do this,” I begged.
Melissa started swirling a finger lightly in left underarm, and a wave of hysteria crashed over me. I started laughing crazily, whipping my head from side to side and kicking my feet.
“Wow, you sure like this,” Melissa gloated, “Tickle tickle tickle, my little pet. And think, this is just one finger!”
She slipped a finger in my right pit, more than doubling the sensations ravaging my body. It was more than I could handle! I started cackling like a mad witch, my most sensitive skin being practically being set on fire.
“HE EHEH EHEHE EHEHEHE EH EH EHEHEHHHE NAAWWOOO HEH EHEHEH EHEH I I MELLISSAA HEH EHEHE EHEHEH EHEHEHEH NAAWWOOOOOAWWOO HEH EHEHE EHEH EH EHEH EH EH!!!!!!!”
Before I was completely blinded by my own sweat and tears, I got one good look at Melissa’s face. Her eyes were shining brightly, and her expression was ecstatic. I knew this wouldn’t be ending any time soon.
“Goochie goochie goo, my little tickle pet,” Melissa said, taunting me, “Just two little fingers, and you lose it! What a little helpless girl you are Julie. Two little fingers! What if I use more?” It was then that she raked all ten fingers across my underarms, five on each side.
I howled like a wounded animal. I doubt any bear could have made a louder noise. She kept raking her hands up and down, her long nails drawing lines threw the heart of my hollows. I lost touch with reality. In seconds, I was no longer conscious of the dorm carpeting below my bare back, the smooth pantyhose around my wrists, or Melissa’s weight on my thighs. All that existed in the world were ten sharp fingernails, moving six inches down and then back up again sometimes agonizingly slow, sometimes devastatingly fast.
I think at some point, noise stopped coming out my mouth. At least I could no longer hear my pitiful cries anymore. All I could do was feel the tickling, feel it with every cell in my body. Later, I would guess that Melissa tickled me for no more than an hour total. At that moment, it was a lifetime.
Finally, she stopped. It took my pillaged body minutes to realize this, and still for awhile, I giggled and snorted as the memory of Melissa’s torturing digits could still be felt on my skin. Mostly, I gasped for breath and slowly found the world again.
“Now,” said Melissa after a long while, “I think that’s about as much fun as I can have today. Do one more thing for me, then I’ll let you get started cleaning this pigsty.”
I didn’t speak, but I knew the look in my eyes clearly said ‘anything’.
“Let me take your pretty pink bra off Julie.”
I was shocked at the suggestion, shocked and humiliated. I hadn’t thought too much when my shirt was ripped off. After all, I had been around girls in my bra countless times, in the locker room after gym, in the communal bathroom before and after my shower, and with my sisters. A few tickles had quickly made me forget I wasn’t just wearing a bikini. But topless?
I could feel my face turn bright red. I couldn’t possibly let her, could I? But a wiggle of Melissa’s fingers let me know what my fate would be if I said no. At that moment, exhausted and pushed over the edge, I would have done anything to avoid more tickling.
Besides, part of my brain said, Melissa was a woman! It would mean nothing. As my roommate, we would probably accidentally walk in on each other changing several times during the year, see. And didn’t the volleyball team showered together after every practice! Melissa was probably just trying to embarrass a naïve girl. It would be like sorority hazing!
Making the worst mistake of my life, I nodded yes.
“No,” Melissa said, giving my ribs a quick poke, “Ask me to do it.”
I squealed, then regained my composure. No more tickling, please no more. I took a deep breath.
“Melissa, would you please take off my bra?” I asked, the words sticking in my throat no matter how hard I rationalized it.
“I’d love to, Julie.” She said simply. I even turned on my side as Melissa undid the clasp behind my back, setting my breasts free. Pulling it over my head, she just sat there for a second ogling me.
Now, I’ve always been proud of my breasts. ‘B’ cup, but close to a ‘C’, and very firm. I often got excited imagined my husband’s eyes bulging out the first time he saw then on our wedding night. He would admire them, almost be in awe of them.
The look on Melissa’s face was very much the same, but it only made my stomach flip flop. She reached out and ran a finger across my nipple, sending a wave of pleasure running down my spine. I felt good, but so wrong. Somehow my face got even redder.
“I bet these would be gorgeous bouncing up and down while I tickled you,” Melissa said in a hushed voice, leaning in close. Her face was only an inch above mine, a needful look in her eyes.
“You promised,” a said in a soft whine, the feeling in my stomach growing ice cold. Fear now raced through my body instead of laughter. I closed my eyes tightly, not wanting to watch what my captor had in mind.
“Tell me you loved it,” Melissa whispered in my ear, her hot breath caressing my lobe. I wasn’t a request.
“I…I loved it, Melissa,” I babbled, “I loved it when you tickled me. Thank you.” I would have said anything to avoid what I felt was coming. There was a long pause.
“There now,” Melissa said, rolling off of me and freeing my hands from the pantyhose that had bound them. “That was fun, wasn’t it. We roommates should play more often.”
“Yes Melissa” I said immediately, not wanting to anger her for the world. I quickly put my bra back on.
“Now clean this room up, and I won’t have to do this again.” She hugged me and kissed me on the cheek. It made me feel dirty.
Melissa didn’t say anything else. She simply walked out of the room, stopping only to slip something from her dresser drawer into a pocket.
And I did clean that room. I worked at a frantic pace, taking less than an hour to get in spotless, terrified that at any instant the door would open and Melissa would walk in again. She didn’t.
Then I quickly threw on a new shirt and ran out the door, threw the hall and down five flights of stairs (the idea of meeting Melissa in the elevator) and across the lobby. I must have looked like I was fleeing from a ghost. I know I was white faced.
I had no other plan than to find somewhere else to sleep that night. I would never give Melissa the chance to do that to me again.
Oh how wrong I was.
End part one
I’m not sure what part of my slavery was the worst, having my delicate body ravaged by her tickling fingers over and over again or my forced submission to Mistress Melissa’s every whim. It’s a hard thing realizing that your independence, free will and sexuality can be stolen from you by such a soft touch! It makes you feel far more worthless than steel bars and cement walls ever could.
I can remember myself as I was, a naïve eighteen-year-old freshman from a small mid-western town. My golden hair was cut short, in a somewhat severe style, and my clothes would have been more appropriate on a librarian than a teen-ager leaving home for the first time. Yet I don’t feel embarrassed by my lack of fashion sense, but envious of my modesty and innocence. My body was my own then, not the property of someone else.
I should have known something was different about Melissa from the beginning. Her eyes lingered over me too long when I was in my tight pajamas, or coming back from the shower wrapped in my white towel. It seemed like her fingers were hungry to touch me, brushing my hand or resting on my shoulder just a bit to often to be casual. But like I said, I had come from a conservative family and town where such things were unknown. It would have taken an earth-shattering event to make me realize she was anything other than a typical boy crazy teen-ager.
Melissa avoided such an event for the first month of the school year. Maybe she was busy watching me and plotting her trap. Its possible Melissa had no plan and just took advantage of my spectacular weakness when she learned about it on that late September afternoon. All I know was that for those first glorious thirty days I was a normal college student.
What got me into trouble was that I was a slob. You see, my mother was one of the few I knew who didn’t work outside of the house. She picked up after us and kept the house neat as a pin. When I moved into the dorm with Melissa, I had never had to worry about cleaning up my room or even making my bed. Needless to say, our dorm room was always cluttered with my dirty clothes, books and garbage. This made Melissa furious.
Melissa did talk to me about it nicely several times, and I did make some efforts to be a cleaner person. But with all stress of college and trying to adjust to my new freedom, there just never seemed to be enough hours in that day. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had become a neater person and avoided the incident. Would I have remained free? That’s a question that will haunt me forever.
It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon, and I was trying to quickly finish a research paper so I could experience some of it. I had forgotten the promises I had made to Melissa just that morning to clean up. It wasn’t the first time I had made and broken those same promises. When she came back to the room to get ready for dinner, Melissa went threw the roof.
“I can’t live like this, Julie!” she shouted at one point, “You’re like a little girl! You’re just not responsible! Do you really think I’m your mother? That I’m going to pick up after you?”
It was terrifying listening to Melissa yell. After all, I was a mousy 110 pounds, while she was a volleyball player, more than a foot taller than I was and at least fifty extra pounds of muscles. I knew her legs were strong enough to push her high over the net while the apparently soft outlines of her biceps concealed enough brawn to spike a ball down an opponent’s throat. I wanted to hide under my bed.
“So what am I going to do, Julie?” Melissa continued her rant, “I can’t talk to you! You just don’t listen! If I had acted like this in my house, my mother would have spanked me until my butt was red! Should I spank you?”
That made me mad. My mom had only spanked me once in my life, but I still resented it greatly.
I could feel my fear subside, and a red veil seemed to come over my eyes.
“Don’t you dare touch me!” I screamed, standing as tall as I could and trying to look her in the eye, “I won’t be treated like a baby!” I pushed my way past her and made for the door. At that point, all I wanted to do was get away from this room and from Melissa.
“Oh you aren’t going anywhere!” Melissa yelled back. She grabbed my waist with both hands, trying to pull me backwards.
Maybe, even as mad as she was, Melissa was still conscious of not hurting me. Maybe I had taken her by surprise, and Melissa hadn’t been able to get as firm of a grip on me as she wanted. Either way, Melissa’s fingers dug into my hipbones, not hard enough to cause me pain, but with ample pressure to tickle.
Taken completely by surprise, I squealed in a high pitched, giggly voice. I instinctively twisted my hips to shake Melissa’s hands free and was now turned around facing my attacker. All of the rage had fled from Melissa’s face. It had been replaced with a sly smile and a cunning look in her eye.
“Is the little girl ticklish?” Melissa asked, still smiling.
My blood was replaced with ice water. The dorm room, which was not much bigger than a walk-in closet, suddenly seemed a lot smaller. I bolted for the door, and pulled it open with all my might. Melissa’s hand reached over my head and slammed it shut.
“Not so fast, Julie,” Melissa said. Her other hand grabbed my side and began dancing her fingers up and down. The T-shirt I was wearing protected my some, but the tickles still shot threw my body and made my knees weak.
Instinctively, I pulled my arms down to cover my sides, but that only trapped those dancing fingers closer to my flesh. Melissa’s other hand plunged into my belly and I screamed as she wiggled her fingers up and down.
“Melissa he eheh ehe ehe eeh nawwwwo ehe ehehee eheh ehh stawwwp hehe ehhehhe …” I laughed. I tried to knock away the hand tickling my belly, but Melissa easily avoided my clumsy attempts, keeping her fingers tickling me through my shirt.
I tried to pull away from her, to run away, but I was trapped. Melissa was right behind me, and the door inches in front of me. To open the door, I’d have to move my arms and let Melissa tickle my unprotected sides. I didn’t have the willpower to open myself up to such torture.
“I wish I had know you were such a ticklish little girl earlier, Julie,” Melissa whispered into my ear, her hot breath tickling me even more, “Think of all the fun we could be having.” Both her hands were on my belly now. They were lightly tracing the lettering and design on my shirt. I wrapped both my arms around my middle, trying to shield myself. Melissa just started poking her fingers through the gaps above and below my arms.
No matter how I moved my arms, there were always gaps. Once I even left my belly button uncovered, and paid dearly for that as Melissa’s pinky drilled into it for several minutes. My laughter never stopped and my breath became ragged.
“I think I’ve got you warmed up now,” Melissa whispered into my ear again, “Are you ready for some real fun?”
“Noooo, ahah ahah nawwooo funn ha aha ahah ahah naawwoo hahah afunnnn!!!!” I giggled futilely. Melissa pulled me backwards while she swept my legs out from under me. I was falling, and would have hit the ground hard, but Melissa caught me and laid me gently on my back. Before I could roll away, Melissa was sitting on me, straddling my waist with her thighs.
“Please Melissa, no more,” I gasped, “I’ll clean it up, I promise!” I held my hands out in front of me, trying to keep her away.
“You have no idea what you’ll do when I’m done with you,” Melissa said evilly. She picked up a pair of pantyhose that I had left lying on the floor. “Let me show you what happens to little girls who can’t pick up their clothes.”
Melissa surpassed me. When she attacked she didn’t go for my sides or belly. Instead she grabbed my wrists. Her fingers were like iron. Melissa had no problem holding my hands while she wrapped the pantyhose around my wrists, tying them together.
“Melissa!” I screamed, “What are you doing?!”
“Getting you ready for more fun, Julie,” she said simply. With my wrists secured, Melissa stood up, leaned over my head and wound the other end of the pantyhose around the leg of my bed. She used the leg of the bed like a pulley, pulling the hose until my arms were forced way over my head. Then Melissa tied it off, making sure the hose was as taut as possible.
Now it was my turn to tug and pull. I did everything I could, but my hands remained a good foot above my head. I was in deep trouble!
“Now then,” Melissa said, straddling me again wiggling her fingers at me, “I think we’re ready.”
“Oh god no,” I pleaded, “Please no, Melissa. Please! I hate being tickled! I hate it! This isn’t a game for me. I’m not ready for this!”
“You know, you’re right Julie, you’re not ready.” Hope built up in me for just a second. Then Melissa reached down, grabbed a hold of my T-shirt, and ripped it in half. It was an old shirt, good only for wearing around the dorm, so it tore easily. Then Melissa stripped to two torn halves from my body, leaving me wearing only my pink bra.
“Now we are finally ready.”
This had gone too far. I took in a deep breath, intending on screaming ‘fire’ or ‘rape’ or anything else that would have brought help.
Melissa was too quick for me. Before I could yell, she flicked her fingers over my bare belly. I was unprepared for her touch on my unprotected skin. It was electric! I started to giggle, and my deep breath escaped out of my lungs unused.
“Silly Julie,” Melissa taunted, “Doesn’t she know she can’t scream without air?” Her fingers kept up their light dance across my tummy, keeping me giggling while my torso twisted and turned, trying to escape her devilish touch.
“heh eheh eheheheh pleeeeaaseee ehe ehehehehe Meeehehehehlisssaaa ehe ehe ehh heheheheheh nawwwoooo nooooo hehe eheh morreeheheheh morrreeeee! Can’t stand he eheh eheh!!”
“Of course you can’t stand up silly! I’m sitting on you!” With so little slack in the panty hose holding my hands, I could only squirm a few inches at best. I couldn’t escape those fingers for a second!
“Now do you see why you should have put your clothes away?” Melissa asked, her fingers drawing feather light circles over my belly. It was maddening! All I could do was keep giggling, babbling inane apologies when I had enough breath.
“Maybe I should count your ribbies?” Melissa taunted. She moved her hands up to my sides, but instead of tickling lightly, she squeezed, digging her fingertips into my ribs.
It felt like every muscle in my body flexed. As a laughing fit overcame me, my body spasmed, and I instinctively thrust my hips forward, grinding my womanhood against Melissa’s.
“Oooh! I like this,” Melissa proclaimed. She kept pinching my ribs, forcing me to laugh harder and harder while I kept grinding my body against hers. Every squeeze made my bottom lift off the ground. I tried to fight the reaction, but it was built in, like when the doctor bangs your knee with the rubber hammer.
Melissa moved her hands up and down my sides, squeezing each rib separately and gauging my reaction. The more ticklish the rib, the harder I thrust my body, so she kept doing those, over and over again.
Then she found the spot. It was about half way up my left ribcage. When she dug her fingers into it, I screamed fervently, laughter bubbling out of me, as my body started bouncing up and down like a super ball. It was sheer agony!
By the time Melissa was finished, my muscles were sore, I was out of breath, and my brow was covered with sweat. As I recovered, breathing deeply, I didn’t even notice Melissa get of my and reach into one of her dresser drawers. Things might have gone differently if I had.
I didn’t become aware of Melissa until she firmly straddled my legs once more. “Boy,” she said, “If I wasn’t wearing these jeans, I think I might have gotten off from all that rubbing!” Still naïve, I wasn’t sure if she was kidding or not.
“Please…no…more,” I said in an exhausted, weak voice. I still thought this was some kind of bad joke, one Melissa would apologize for once she realized how much I truly hated being tickled.
“Lets try one more tickle spot Julie, just to make sure you know I’m serious. How about your underarms?”
My eyes must have widened to the size of dinner plates when she said that. I could feel my skin go white. My armpits were extremely ticklish. They had been the victims of many quick tickles over the years. Now, of course, I couldn’t simply pull down my arms to protect them. My pits were wide open, defenseless.
“Julie likes that idea,” Melissa smiled easily. She ran one finger across my left underarm, slowly from my biceps to my ribs. I broke into a huge smile, and tittered drunkenly.
“So soft, so clean,” Melissa practically purred, “You must take excellent care of these. Do you use baby powder? I bet they never see the sun.”
I could only look at her in horror as I frantically tried to rip my hands free from the pantyhose. “Don’t do this,” I begged.
Melissa started swirling a finger lightly in left underarm, and a wave of hysteria crashed over me. I started laughing crazily, whipping my head from side to side and kicking my feet.
“Wow, you sure like this,” Melissa gloated, “Tickle tickle tickle, my little pet. And think, this is just one finger!”
She slipped a finger in my right pit, more than doubling the sensations ravaging my body. It was more than I could handle! I started cackling like a mad witch, my most sensitive skin being practically being set on fire.
“HE EHEH EHEHE EHEHEHE EH EH EHEHEHHHE NAAWWOOO HEH EHEHEH EHEH I I MELLISSAA HEH EHEHE EHEHEH EHEHEHEH NAAWWOOOOOAWWOO HEH EHEHE EHEH EH EHEH EH EH!!!!!!!”
Before I was completely blinded by my own sweat and tears, I got one good look at Melissa’s face. Her eyes were shining brightly, and her expression was ecstatic. I knew this wouldn’t be ending any time soon.
“Goochie goochie goo, my little tickle pet,” Melissa said, taunting me, “Just two little fingers, and you lose it! What a little helpless girl you are Julie. Two little fingers! What if I use more?” It was then that she raked all ten fingers across my underarms, five on each side.
I howled like a wounded animal. I doubt any bear could have made a louder noise. She kept raking her hands up and down, her long nails drawing lines threw the heart of my hollows. I lost touch with reality. In seconds, I was no longer conscious of the dorm carpeting below my bare back, the smooth pantyhose around my wrists, or Melissa’s weight on my thighs. All that existed in the world were ten sharp fingernails, moving six inches down and then back up again sometimes agonizingly slow, sometimes devastatingly fast.
I think at some point, noise stopped coming out my mouth. At least I could no longer hear my pitiful cries anymore. All I could do was feel the tickling, feel it with every cell in my body. Later, I would guess that Melissa tickled me for no more than an hour total. At that moment, it was a lifetime.
Finally, she stopped. It took my pillaged body minutes to realize this, and still for awhile, I giggled and snorted as the memory of Melissa’s torturing digits could still be felt on my skin. Mostly, I gasped for breath and slowly found the world again.
“Now,” said Melissa after a long while, “I think that’s about as much fun as I can have today. Do one more thing for me, then I’ll let you get started cleaning this pigsty.”
I didn’t speak, but I knew the look in my eyes clearly said ‘anything’.
“Let me take your pretty pink bra off Julie.”
I was shocked at the suggestion, shocked and humiliated. I hadn’t thought too much when my shirt was ripped off. After all, I had been around girls in my bra countless times, in the locker room after gym, in the communal bathroom before and after my shower, and with my sisters. A few tickles had quickly made me forget I wasn’t just wearing a bikini. But topless?
I could feel my face turn bright red. I couldn’t possibly let her, could I? But a wiggle of Melissa’s fingers let me know what my fate would be if I said no. At that moment, exhausted and pushed over the edge, I would have done anything to avoid more tickling.
Besides, part of my brain said, Melissa was a woman! It would mean nothing. As my roommate, we would probably accidentally walk in on each other changing several times during the year, see. And didn’t the volleyball team showered together after every practice! Melissa was probably just trying to embarrass a naïve girl. It would be like sorority hazing!
Making the worst mistake of my life, I nodded yes.
“No,” Melissa said, giving my ribs a quick poke, “Ask me to do it.”
I squealed, then regained my composure. No more tickling, please no more. I took a deep breath.
“Melissa, would you please take off my bra?” I asked, the words sticking in my throat no matter how hard I rationalized it.
“I’d love to, Julie.” She said simply. I even turned on my side as Melissa undid the clasp behind my back, setting my breasts free. Pulling it over my head, she just sat there for a second ogling me.
Now, I’ve always been proud of my breasts. ‘B’ cup, but close to a ‘C’, and very firm. I often got excited imagined my husband’s eyes bulging out the first time he saw then on our wedding night. He would admire them, almost be in awe of them.
The look on Melissa’s face was very much the same, but it only made my stomach flip flop. She reached out and ran a finger across my nipple, sending a wave of pleasure running down my spine. I felt good, but so wrong. Somehow my face got even redder.
“I bet these would be gorgeous bouncing up and down while I tickled you,” Melissa said in a hushed voice, leaning in close. Her face was only an inch above mine, a needful look in her eyes.
“You promised,” a said in a soft whine, the feeling in my stomach growing ice cold. Fear now raced through my body instead of laughter. I closed my eyes tightly, not wanting to watch what my captor had in mind.
“Tell me you loved it,” Melissa whispered in my ear, her hot breath caressing my lobe. I wasn’t a request.
“I…I loved it, Melissa,” I babbled, “I loved it when you tickled me. Thank you.” I would have said anything to avoid what I felt was coming. There was a long pause.
“There now,” Melissa said, rolling off of me and freeing my hands from the pantyhose that had bound them. “That was fun, wasn’t it. We roommates should play more often.”
“Yes Melissa” I said immediately, not wanting to anger her for the world. I quickly put my bra back on.
“Now clean this room up, and I won’t have to do this again.” She hugged me and kissed me on the cheek. It made me feel dirty.
Melissa didn’t say anything else. She simply walked out of the room, stopping only to slip something from her dresser drawer into a pocket.
And I did clean that room. I worked at a frantic pace, taking less than an hour to get in spotless, terrified that at any instant the door would open and Melissa would walk in again. She didn’t.
Then I quickly threw on a new shirt and ran out the door, threw the hall and down five flights of stairs (the idea of meeting Melissa in the elevator) and across the lobby. I must have looked like I was fleeing from a ghost. I know I was white faced.
I had no other plan than to find somewhere else to sleep that night. I would never give Melissa the chance to do that to me again.
Oh how wrong I was.
End part one
