Jerry67911
2nd Level Green Feather
- Joined
- Apr 19, 2001
- Messages
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This is one of the first stories I ever read, and it really affected me, if you know what I mean. I searched for awhile before I found this. This was on a couple old websites. I looked in this forum and never saw it posted so I thought I'd share it with people who haven't been visiting tickling sites for over 10 years.
Edmund And the Night Visitors
by: ??? *
It was midnight at the large Carstairs manorhouse. Edmund Harper, late
of Massachusettes seminary, now private instructor to the three young
ladies of the manor, slept soundly in the little caretaker's cottage
behind the carriage-house. It had been, like so many before it, a very
trying day.
The three Carstairs daughters; Constance, Priscilla, and Camilla;
could have been very apt pupils, except for their--vivacity. Forever
having fun at the expense of the shy, bookish young man (at
twenty-three, he was only three years older than Constance, the
eldest), the three used all of the most cunning artifices to distract
and befuddle their inexperienced young teacher.
Sometimes a button might come undone, or a locket might go missing
down a bodice. Once Priscilla had sworn "some horrible insect" had
crawled up her skirts, forcing the young man to flee her frantic
efforts to "locate the pest".
As he'd run, he'd been followed by gales of laughter. So far, that had
been the worst. Now, with their father gone for the week, Edmund was
exiled to the caretaker's cottage, the elderly Mrs. Hodsworth keeping
watch on her charges' "purity". Edmund was glad of the stout old woman
between them. He felt much safer with his private dreams of the
Carstairs girls than with the girls themselves.
It was this security of mind which led to the soundness of his sleep.
With the young ladies safely locked away in the manor house, he had no
worries of "accidental intrusions" into his bathing, or of
sleepwalking young ladies wandering into his room. He slept soundly,
oblivious to all. And thensuddenly--he awoke! He wasn't sure just what
had caused him to start, but as soon as he awakened he knew he was not
alone. Eyes wide in fear, he remained silent, unmoving; his gaze fixed
upon a shadowy figure by the window. "Who--Who's there?" he croaked.
"Oh Mister Harper" the figure replied "it's only us!" A slim hand
reached out, turning up the wick of the oil lamp that smoldered on the
old rolltop desk. As the flame rose, the amber glow fell on Priscilla,
standing by the window; long blond hair unbound to cascade down past
the dark cloak she wore. She smiled impishly. He felt his throat
tightening. "Oh, God", He thought. " I have to get her out of here.
But I mustn't get up!" She mustn't know... Then it registered--"Us?"
"Well, Ed--Mister Harper" she corrected, dimpling, "It was Camilla.
The poor dear just couldn't sleep at all. She was ever so fascinated
by your lessons this afternoon. The thought of the entire world just
whirling through the heavens--I should say we were all
fascinated--truly we were--but we just couldn't seem to understand,
and poor Camilla just went over it and over it, do you see?"
"Camilla?" he said.
"And she couldn't come alone, of course. It just wouldn't be proper at
all, would it?"
So--so you...?" It was maddening attempting to talk to the girl with
his mind going in all directions. And his body also had ideas of its
own.
"Well, all of us, naturally. We all came!"
"All?"
Of course. Me, of course; and Camilla, of course; and Constance."
"Of course" He felt himself trembling, but couldn't stop. At last he
turned to the giggling he now heard behind him. Camilla was blushing,
her dark hair shading her face, deep blue eyes (he knew) downcast.
Beside her was Constance. As always, his breath caught. She faced him
squarely,an amused smile on her lips (oh, those lips...). Her green
eyes sparkled in the lamplight, and her long auburn hair caught and
held the amber glow.
"Mister Harper" she purred in the soft, sultry voice that tingled
along his nerves, "It is customary to rise in the prescence of
ladies."
If she only knew, he thought. "I--I am af-f-fraid that I'm not dr-not
properly dressed for company, Miss Carstairs. Perhaps if you were to
return in the morning, we might--um, continue then"
Oh, but we couldn't!" Priscilla burst out.
Indeed not," said Constance. "Our poor dear sister is in such a
befuddlement. Surely you wouldn't turn us out?"
Priscilla rushed forward, clasping his hand with both of her own. "Oh,
you mustn't! We shan't be but an instant--please!" As she moved, her
cloak fell open, revealing her slim body, and the very light
night-dress in which it was barely covered.
"I--I"
Please." Camilla said softly. "I truly shan't take much of your time.
It's only that I feel certain I'll be able to go right to sleep."
At Constance's urging, Camilla approached him, sitting on the other
side of the bed from her sister. Like her sister, she took his hand in
both her own. Also like her sister, her robe fell open to reveal a
filmy nightgown. Unlike her sister, her hair and eyes were very dark.
And her breasts were smaller,he noted; shocking himself with his train
of thought. "Well--What--what exactly was the--the concern, Miss
Carstairs?"
It was even more difficult to speak. Priscilla held tightly to his
right hand, Camilla to his left. Expectantly, they leaned towards him,
affording him a view farther down their nightgowns than any locket had
ever gone. As they leaned forward, His hands were pushed up against
the headboard as they steadied themselves on their arms, and the hands
that they still held.
On either side, his arms were trapped by the girls who, thankfully,
did not seem to notice his predicament. He was heady from their
nearness, and the scent of their perfume. He almost forgot why they
were there. He almost forgot his name. Recollecting himself, he tried,
in his best schoolmaster's voice, "Your...um...qu-question, Miss
Carstairs?"
"Camilla, dear," Constance broke in, "You look very warm, and your
cloak is damp from the rain" (What rain? he thought. Was it raining?)
Why don't you remove it? I'm certain we may trust Mister Harper's good
intentions toward us all, and you certainly mustn't overheat
yourself." She pulled the drawstring from Camilla's cloak, and the
heavy material fell from her shoulders.
The dark-haired girl blushed furiously--all over--and her instructor
couldn't help but gape at the large expanse of creamy skin that was
uncovered. He didn't know how long he stared, but at last he forced
his attention to Constance, now also seated on the bed. She fumbled
uncertainly at the cordsecuring her own cloak, green eyes all the
while boring into his own. He could think of nothing else but those
deep green eyes--they were mesmerising in their intensity. As she
slowly removed her cloak, (revealing a very, very low-cut nightgown)
he nearly moaned. Her body was a perfect work of art.
Her breasts, nearly exposed by the low-cut gown, seemed to strain at
the fabric which covered them. And nothing else covered them, he was
certain. For a very long time he remained transfixed. Then he
realized--he WAS transfixed! Priscilla and Camilla, he saw, had both
released his hands at some time. But he couldn't move!
"I'm flattered, Sir" Constance purred, "That you never even noticed.Am
I truly so distracting?" She leaned across him on the bed, still
smiling.
Priscilla giggled.
"What?" he began. But then he saw--Constance was lying across his
knees! He couldn't move his hands or his feet! "Oh Lord!", He thought,
"What are they going to do to me?"
Slowly, delicately, Constance drew the string from out of her cloak.
He saw that it was very long, and realized how his hands had been
tied. A glance to the side confirmed that his arms were lashed to the
headboard by two identical cords. As he watched, Priscilla took the
cord from Constance.He felt the single blanket flipped back to expose
his feet. Then he felt the cord going round and round his ankles...
"Ladies, please. I--I must protest this--OH!" He jumped at the light
touch of Priscilla's fingers on the bottoms of his feet. The girls
exchanged pleased glances. Shy, quiet Camilla was grinning wickedly.
Priscilla clapped her hands in delight. "Oh, Constance, You were
right! Oh, where shall we begin? Please let me start--please do!"
Constance arose.
Edmund was left helpless--spread-eagled on the bed, with the three
young ladies surrounding him. Priscilla was on his right, Camilla on
his left, and Constance--merciless Constance--was at his feet. And he
suddenly knew. "No! Ladies, please, I beg of you all--"
"Edmund," Constance said sweetly, "We aren't going to hurt you. Not in
the least. You are very, very dear to us. It's only that we must
preserve our virtue."
"Yes!" Priscilla agreed. "After all; three young, helpless girls-- why
you could do anything to us, couldn't you? Just anything at all, and
we'd be utterly helpless!" She giggled, spoiling the effect. "We only
felt that we should do something. To protect you, you know. From
temptation."
"And now that we have," Constance continued "dear Camilla can have her
mind set at ease, and we may all go back to--why Edmund! You're
perspiring! Camilla, dear, do remove those blankets."
"No!" he cried. "No, please! I'm fine, truly! I'm fine! If you could
just..." But it was too late.. His every protest studiously ignored,
Edmund felt the blanket slide slowly down and off.
"Oh, my!" chorused Priscilla and Camilla. Constance actually giggled.
Why Mister Harper!" she said, "I never would have suspected. Please
forgive us. We would never have dreamt that you sleep...Au Naturale.
And what wicked thoughts you must be thinking!" she added, her eyes
dancing over his body, stopping to rest midway. "Girls, I think it
best if we politely ignore the fact that poor Edmund is quite naked,
don't you? He is quite helpless, and I think we need not fear for our
safety just yet."
Edmund groaned. Priscilla was beside herself, giggling uncontrollably.
She leaned back in the small desk chair she'd taken, propping her feet
up on the bed. Mere inches from his face, her bare feet wiggled, one
toe lightly stroking his ear. Camilla, blushing furiously, was
nonetheless looking verypleased indeed. Constance actually
looked...well...hungry.
"Camilla, dear" she said absently, "what was your question for poor
dear Edmund?"
yes. Well, Mister--Edmund" she corrected herself, dimpling, "I
was thinking about your mister...mister..."
"Copernicus!" Priscilla chimed in. "The Copernican Theory. I remember
thinking it had something to do with copper."
Edmund couldn't think."What game was this?"
"Yes." Camilla breathed. "Well, according to Mister Copernicus, the
earth circles the sun. Only, it doesn't quite go in a circle? If the
sun were, say..."
"Here." Constance suggested, laying a finger on his left nipple.
He jumped at the feather-light touch, but the girls seemed intent on
their question.
Yes! And then the earth would go about it like thisss..." Camillla
began circling his nipple with one forefinger, trailing it
elliptically up to his neck. He squirmed, trying not to giggle. Around
went her finger, down under his arm. He jumped, snorting, seeing the
cruelty of their scheme. Her finger passed along his ribs, all three
girls watching him struggle not to give in to the laughter bubbling
up. If he did, he was lost, he knew. When her finger reached the side
of his stomach, he burst out with a spurt of laughter. The finger
continued, back up his stomach, along his ribs, and back to his neck.
Nearly insane with relief, he braced for the "question"
Now,said, grinning evilly. If the earth were, say...here."
She poked lightly at the side of his stomach. He giggled
involuntarily. They knew where he was most ticklish! "...Then the moon
goes...around it" He jumped! "like....thiss!" She began to circle her
finger along his sides,giggling as he bucked and squirmed.
"No! No-ho-ho-ho-ho-ple-hee-hee-heeheeeeese!
Pleasesto-ha-ha-ha-ha-hahahahahahap!!"
It was infectious. Soon all three girls were laughing, eyes twinkling
merrily.
"Stop! Stohahahahahahhahhp! pleeheheheeeeese! please hahahahahahaha!"
Eventually, she did. In wide-eyed surprise, she gazed at him, trying
not to giggle.
"Why Camilla" Constance cooed. "It appears our poor Edmund is
ticklish!"
That isn't all he is!" Priscilla laughed.
"Oh, my." Camilla breathed. her soft, slender fingers reached out to
lightly stroke his erect penis.
"Oh! Oooohhhh!" he moaned. He began to buck, to thrash wildly, but he
remained helpless as a baby before the three beautiful girls.
Priscilla also reached out...
"I don't know what we should do now, "Constance said, grinning. "I
truly fear for our safety should we release him in that state."
"Constance, please--Oh! Co--aahhh! Camilla, don't DON'T! Ahhhhhhh!
PriscillAAAHHHH! Mercy!" He wriggled helplessly under their strok
fingers. Constance, seated at the end of the bed, began to play idly
with his toes. He giggled, the stroking of his penis combining with
the tickling of his toes into a new sensation that drove him insane!
He laughed/gasped at their idletorture, unable to beg forrelease. And
not quite willing, either. Undaunted, they continued their
conversation without him.
Constance, what shall we do?" Priscilla cried, one toe swirling
around under his arm. He laughed helplessly, unable to move away from
it, his erection almost painful in its intensity.
"Perhaps..." Camilla ventured (idly tracing baroque patterns on his
ribs)
"Yes, dear?" Constance looked up from her examination of his toes. Her
own were now probing along his inner thigh, causing him to laugh and
cry helpessly, as he wiggled, jerked, and squirmed under their
ministrations--all to no avail.
"Perhaps," (curlicue, swirl) "if he were very tired..."
"Exhausted!" Priscilla agreed, rooting through the rolltop desk.
"I think you're right, Camilla" Constance paused to think, one toe
poised just below his scrotum. She wiggled it idly, sending him into
fresh convulsions.
God, please sta-ha-ha-haaaaap!"
"Yes," Constance affirmed. "for our own safety, we must not release
him until he is quite exhausted!" They all seemed pleased with that.
They paused, expectantly; fingers and toes held inches from his
helpless, naked body. He gasped for breath.
How" he managed, "how exhausted", he asked fearfully.
"I suppose" Constance giggled, "that we must tickle you into
submission!"
No!"
YES!" they all cried, and fell to it without mercy! Delicate fingers
danced along his ribs, wriggled around his stomach, and scratched at
his feet.
He screamed,
"Ahhhh--ha-ha-ha-ha--plea-hee-hee-hees-s-s-s-sto-ha-ha-ha-hap!!!!" He
bucked, wriggled, and squirmed, but the tickling torture went on and
on. He felt fingers circling around under his arms, swirling over his
naked ribs and tummy, wiggling round and round on the soles of his
feet! Then they attacked his toes, in between and under. Someone's
toes wiggled against his thighs, and someone else's agains his ribs.
All over his body,the maddening, merciless tickling! He tried to beg,
to plead for mercy, but he could only quiver in helpless laughter as
the girls tickled every helpless, naked inch of his body. He was
sourrounded by their giggles, the smell of their perfume.
He writhed under the touch of their hair, their silken gowns, and
their ever-present tickling fingers! After an eternity, it seemed,
they stopped.
Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho-ha-ha-ha. Oh. Oh. Oh, God" he breathed.
"Well," said Constance. "I suppose that will do for a start."
thought he might cry; he might go insane. Priscilla giggled
incessantly, Camilla regarded his helpless form from under long, dark
lashes. Constance eyed him like an amused cat, her deep green eyes
hypnotic in their intensity.
"Constance" he begged, "Constance, please; please no more!"
"Why, Edmund," she purred, "I don't believe you've ever called me
'Constance' before. But I suppose the circumstances aren't really that
formal, are they?" She grinned.
Priscilla trailed one bare toe down the length of his side. "Oh, is he
a ticklish little boy? Kitchee kitchee kooo!"
He jumped at the words, and at the gentle prodding of her delicate
foot. "This can't be real", he thought."This has to be a dream. Dear
God, let it be a dream!" He wasn't sure he meant it.
Constance," Camilla broke in "I think he's rested enough. We do want
to tire him."
"You're quite right, dear. Priscilla, did you find them?"
"Oh yes, Constance, they were in the desk, just where you said. I
found one for each of us! How shall we divide him up?" In her hand he
saw what she'd been after in the rolltop desk--three long, stiff quill
feathers. He began to sweat.
"Only three, dear? Are you sure?" Constance seemed disappointed.
Edmund was surprised at his relief. ONLY three?
"Constance--" he started.
"Hush." she said, placing one finger gently to his lips. "Edmund, if
you make one more sound, say one more word, we shall stay here all
night, and we shall tickle you the entire night. We shall tickle your
feet, tickle your ribs, tickle your neck, your tummy, and under your
arms. And then..." She glanced at Camilla and Priscilla, then leaned
very close, breathing softly in his ear, "And then, I shall send
Priscilla and Camilla away, and I will tickle your manhood until it
bursts." He lay there, very quietly, very tempted.
"What did you tell him?" Camilla asked.
"Something to keep him from begging for mercy."
"Constance!" Priscilla said, "I like hearing him beg for mercy."
I do too." Camilla added.
Constance shrugged, smiling. "I like watching him struggle not to."
Still giggling, they each took a feather. Helpless, he could only
watch as they gathered around him; Camilla at his left, Priscilla his
right, and Constance again at his feet.
They began slowly. At first it was only Priscilla and Camilla,
athers slowly gliding up and down his sides. He squirmed, stifling
the giggles that threatened to burst from his mouth as the feathers
went down his arms, under them, along his ribs, and towards his very
ticklish stomach. Then Constance began, twirling her feather along the
soles of his feet.
He thought he'd die--the tickling was unbearable. "MMh! MMh Hmm!" They
kept it up, feathers trailing slowly along his body and feet, just
slowly enough that he never quite gave in to the laughing fit that
threatened to overwhelm him. Constance watched intently, waiting for
the slightest sound. He knew she'd meant every word. He closed his
eyes, hoping to block out the whispers of touch.He felt a warm breath
on his neck. Risking a glimpse, he looked up into the deep blue eyes
of Camilla. They sparkled brightly in the lamplight. She leaned
nearer, and again he saw deep down into her nightdress. Then she began
to whisper.
"Tickle, tickle tickle. Kootchee kootchee kooo." The feathers
continued their slow, even strokes, but the added distraction seemed
to magnify the sensation. Worse, Camilla's hair and breath were
tickling his neck, and her nearness was intoxicating. "Kitchee kitchee
koooo. Who's a ticklish boy? Who's a helpless, naked, ticklish baby
boy?" She giggled, and he almost died of the effort not to join in. He
was weakening, and they knew it. Then he felt a warmth and a whisper
of breath from the other side.Priscilla was joining the new game.
"What a ticklish baby boy! Is he ticklish? Is he?" Her feather jerked
as she lost the rythm. Edmund jerked, too; as the quill skittered
along his inner thigh. Just then, Constance began to tickle between
his toes.
"Ahh! No! Nohopleaheeheeheeheeeese! Stohahahap! Stop! I ca--I ca-can't
sta-ha-ha-ha-hand it!
At once, they began in earnest. Again, they tickled his entire
body--feet, ribs, stomach--everywhere! He felt his erection growing
painfully hard, then something--toe, finger, or tongue; he never
knew--slid up and down his throbbing penis! Wriggling, bucking,
helplessly laughing; he nearly climaxed,but the tongue(?) withdrew,
and he was left with the tickling fingers. At last, they stopped.
"Ha-ha-ha-oh-go-ha-ha-ha-had, plea-he-he-heese sto-hap! Oh, stop.
Please. Please. Please. Please."
"Do you think he's tired enough?" Camilla grinned.
Constance looked down at him; helpless and naked before her; drench
in sweat, and still giggling."Edmund. You were not very quiet."
"Oh, Constance" Priscilla enthused. "What are you going to do to him?"
He looked up at her, not sure what he hoped for. She looked, as ever,
amused. "Nothing, I should think."
"Oh." The other two sighed. They were very disappointed.
"Thank God." Edmund breathed. He seemed disappointed, also.
"Nothing, till after we've bathed him."
Camilla nodded, while Priscilla gushed. "Oh my, yes!" Certainly, the
poor dear's been perspiring just a bit. We truly, truly should!"
Edmund couldn't speak. He was gasping, panting, and indeed drenched
with sweat. Silently, grateful for the blessed reprieve from their
fiendish tickling, he lay breathing, still feeling in his mind those
merciless fingers probing every inch of his helpless, naked, and
oh-so-ticklish body. He struggled feebly, surreptitiously (he hoped)
against the bonds which secured his wrists. If there ever had been any
hope of escaping them, it was now long gone. The knots--deftly
tied--had been pulled even tighter by his frantic struggles; and if
they had not broken then, he could certainly not now muster sufficient
force to break free. As his heart ceased to pound, he began to think.
His first thought: How to escape? His second: Did he want to? Revenge?
Against one, perhaps even two... but THREE sets of tickling fingers?
And how, Oh how could he ever stand before them again? Best, he
thought, to re-phrase that...
(To be continued below thanks to Wildtime)
Edmund And the Night Visitors
by: ??? *
It was midnight at the large Carstairs manorhouse. Edmund Harper, late
of Massachusettes seminary, now private instructor to the three young
ladies of the manor, slept soundly in the little caretaker's cottage
behind the carriage-house. It had been, like so many before it, a very
trying day.
The three Carstairs daughters; Constance, Priscilla, and Camilla;
could have been very apt pupils, except for their--vivacity. Forever
having fun at the expense of the shy, bookish young man (at
twenty-three, he was only three years older than Constance, the
eldest), the three used all of the most cunning artifices to distract
and befuddle their inexperienced young teacher.
Sometimes a button might come undone, or a locket might go missing
down a bodice. Once Priscilla had sworn "some horrible insect" had
crawled up her skirts, forcing the young man to flee her frantic
efforts to "locate the pest".
As he'd run, he'd been followed by gales of laughter. So far, that had
been the worst. Now, with their father gone for the week, Edmund was
exiled to the caretaker's cottage, the elderly Mrs. Hodsworth keeping
watch on her charges' "purity". Edmund was glad of the stout old woman
between them. He felt much safer with his private dreams of the
Carstairs girls than with the girls themselves.
It was this security of mind which led to the soundness of his sleep.
With the young ladies safely locked away in the manor house, he had no
worries of "accidental intrusions" into his bathing, or of
sleepwalking young ladies wandering into his room. He slept soundly,
oblivious to all. And thensuddenly--he awoke! He wasn't sure just what
had caused him to start, but as soon as he awakened he knew he was not
alone. Eyes wide in fear, he remained silent, unmoving; his gaze fixed
upon a shadowy figure by the window. "Who--Who's there?" he croaked.
"Oh Mister Harper" the figure replied "it's only us!" A slim hand
reached out, turning up the wick of the oil lamp that smoldered on the
old rolltop desk. As the flame rose, the amber glow fell on Priscilla,
standing by the window; long blond hair unbound to cascade down past
the dark cloak she wore. She smiled impishly. He felt his throat
tightening. "Oh, God", He thought. " I have to get her out of here.
But I mustn't get up!" She mustn't know... Then it registered--"Us?"
"Well, Ed--Mister Harper" she corrected, dimpling, "It was Camilla.
The poor dear just couldn't sleep at all. She was ever so fascinated
by your lessons this afternoon. The thought of the entire world just
whirling through the heavens--I should say we were all
fascinated--truly we were--but we just couldn't seem to understand,
and poor Camilla just went over it and over it, do you see?"
"Camilla?" he said.
"And she couldn't come alone, of course. It just wouldn't be proper at
all, would it?"
So--so you...?" It was maddening attempting to talk to the girl with
his mind going in all directions. And his body also had ideas of its
own.
"Well, all of us, naturally. We all came!"
"All?"
Of course. Me, of course; and Camilla, of course; and Constance."
"Of course" He felt himself trembling, but couldn't stop. At last he
turned to the giggling he now heard behind him. Camilla was blushing,
her dark hair shading her face, deep blue eyes (he knew) downcast.
Beside her was Constance. As always, his breath caught. She faced him
squarely,an amused smile on her lips (oh, those lips...). Her green
eyes sparkled in the lamplight, and her long auburn hair caught and
held the amber glow.
"Mister Harper" she purred in the soft, sultry voice that tingled
along his nerves, "It is customary to rise in the prescence of
ladies."
If she only knew, he thought. "I--I am af-f-fraid that I'm not dr-not
properly dressed for company, Miss Carstairs. Perhaps if you were to
return in the morning, we might--um, continue then"
Oh, but we couldn't!" Priscilla burst out.
Indeed not," said Constance. "Our poor dear sister is in such a
befuddlement. Surely you wouldn't turn us out?"
Priscilla rushed forward, clasping his hand with both of her own. "Oh,
you mustn't! We shan't be but an instant--please!" As she moved, her
cloak fell open, revealing her slim body, and the very light
night-dress in which it was barely covered.
"I--I"
Please." Camilla said softly. "I truly shan't take much of your time.
It's only that I feel certain I'll be able to go right to sleep."
At Constance's urging, Camilla approached him, sitting on the other
side of the bed from her sister. Like her sister, she took his hand in
both her own. Also like her sister, her robe fell open to reveal a
filmy nightgown. Unlike her sister, her hair and eyes were very dark.
And her breasts were smaller,he noted; shocking himself with his train
of thought. "Well--What--what exactly was the--the concern, Miss
Carstairs?"
It was even more difficult to speak. Priscilla held tightly to his
right hand, Camilla to his left. Expectantly, they leaned towards him,
affording him a view farther down their nightgowns than any locket had
ever gone. As they leaned forward, His hands were pushed up against
the headboard as they steadied themselves on their arms, and the hands
that they still held.
On either side, his arms were trapped by the girls who, thankfully,
did not seem to notice his predicament. He was heady from their
nearness, and the scent of their perfume. He almost forgot why they
were there. He almost forgot his name. Recollecting himself, he tried,
in his best schoolmaster's voice, "Your...um...qu-question, Miss
Carstairs?"
"Camilla, dear," Constance broke in, "You look very warm, and your
cloak is damp from the rain" (What rain? he thought. Was it raining?)
Why don't you remove it? I'm certain we may trust Mister Harper's good
intentions toward us all, and you certainly mustn't overheat
yourself." She pulled the drawstring from Camilla's cloak, and the
heavy material fell from her shoulders.
The dark-haired girl blushed furiously--all over--and her instructor
couldn't help but gape at the large expanse of creamy skin that was
uncovered. He didn't know how long he stared, but at last he forced
his attention to Constance, now also seated on the bed. She fumbled
uncertainly at the cordsecuring her own cloak, green eyes all the
while boring into his own. He could think of nothing else but those
deep green eyes--they were mesmerising in their intensity. As she
slowly removed her cloak, (revealing a very, very low-cut nightgown)
he nearly moaned. Her body was a perfect work of art.
Her breasts, nearly exposed by the low-cut gown, seemed to strain at
the fabric which covered them. And nothing else covered them, he was
certain. For a very long time he remained transfixed. Then he
realized--he WAS transfixed! Priscilla and Camilla, he saw, had both
released his hands at some time. But he couldn't move!
"I'm flattered, Sir" Constance purred, "That you never even noticed.Am
I truly so distracting?" She leaned across him on the bed, still
smiling.
Priscilla giggled.
"What?" he began. But then he saw--Constance was lying across his
knees! He couldn't move his hands or his feet! "Oh Lord!", He thought,
"What are they going to do to me?"
Slowly, delicately, Constance drew the string from out of her cloak.
He saw that it was very long, and realized how his hands had been
tied. A glance to the side confirmed that his arms were lashed to the
headboard by two identical cords. As he watched, Priscilla took the
cord from Constance.He felt the single blanket flipped back to expose
his feet. Then he felt the cord going round and round his ankles...
"Ladies, please. I--I must protest this--OH!" He jumped at the light
touch of Priscilla's fingers on the bottoms of his feet. The girls
exchanged pleased glances. Shy, quiet Camilla was grinning wickedly.
Priscilla clapped her hands in delight. "Oh, Constance, You were
right! Oh, where shall we begin? Please let me start--please do!"
Constance arose.
Edmund was left helpless--spread-eagled on the bed, with the three
young ladies surrounding him. Priscilla was on his right, Camilla on
his left, and Constance--merciless Constance--was at his feet. And he
suddenly knew. "No! Ladies, please, I beg of you all--"
"Edmund," Constance said sweetly, "We aren't going to hurt you. Not in
the least. You are very, very dear to us. It's only that we must
preserve our virtue."
"Yes!" Priscilla agreed. "After all; three young, helpless girls-- why
you could do anything to us, couldn't you? Just anything at all, and
we'd be utterly helpless!" She giggled, spoiling the effect. "We only
felt that we should do something. To protect you, you know. From
temptation."
"And now that we have," Constance continued "dear Camilla can have her
mind set at ease, and we may all go back to--why Edmund! You're
perspiring! Camilla, dear, do remove those blankets."
"No!" he cried. "No, please! I'm fine, truly! I'm fine! If you could
just..." But it was too late.. His every protest studiously ignored,
Edmund felt the blanket slide slowly down and off.
"Oh, my!" chorused Priscilla and Camilla. Constance actually giggled.
Why Mister Harper!" she said, "I never would have suspected. Please
forgive us. We would never have dreamt that you sleep...Au Naturale.
And what wicked thoughts you must be thinking!" she added, her eyes
dancing over his body, stopping to rest midway. "Girls, I think it
best if we politely ignore the fact that poor Edmund is quite naked,
don't you? He is quite helpless, and I think we need not fear for our
safety just yet."
Edmund groaned. Priscilla was beside herself, giggling uncontrollably.
She leaned back in the small desk chair she'd taken, propping her feet
up on the bed. Mere inches from his face, her bare feet wiggled, one
toe lightly stroking his ear. Camilla, blushing furiously, was
nonetheless looking verypleased indeed. Constance actually
looked...well...hungry.
"Camilla, dear" she said absently, "what was your question for poor
dear Edmund?"
yes. Well, Mister--Edmund" she corrected herself, dimpling, "I
was thinking about your mister...mister..."
"Copernicus!" Priscilla chimed in. "The Copernican Theory. I remember
thinking it had something to do with copper."
Edmund couldn't think."What game was this?"
"Yes." Camilla breathed. "Well, according to Mister Copernicus, the
earth circles the sun. Only, it doesn't quite go in a circle? If the
sun were, say..."
"Here." Constance suggested, laying a finger on his left nipple.
He jumped at the feather-light touch, but the girls seemed intent on
their question.
Yes! And then the earth would go about it like thisss..." Camillla
began circling his nipple with one forefinger, trailing it
elliptically up to his neck. He squirmed, trying not to giggle. Around
went her finger, down under his arm. He jumped, snorting, seeing the
cruelty of their scheme. Her finger passed along his ribs, all three
girls watching him struggle not to give in to the laughter bubbling
up. If he did, he was lost, he knew. When her finger reached the side
of his stomach, he burst out with a spurt of laughter. The finger
continued, back up his stomach, along his ribs, and back to his neck.
Nearly insane with relief, he braced for the "question"
Now,said, grinning evilly. If the earth were, say...here."
She poked lightly at the side of his stomach. He giggled
involuntarily. They knew where he was most ticklish! "...Then the moon
goes...around it" He jumped! "like....thiss!" She began to circle her
finger along his sides,giggling as he bucked and squirmed.
"No! No-ho-ho-ho-ho-ple-hee-hee-heeheeeeese!
Pleasesto-ha-ha-ha-ha-hahahahahahap!!"
It was infectious. Soon all three girls were laughing, eyes twinkling
merrily.
"Stop! Stohahahahahahhahhp! pleeheheheeeeese! please hahahahahahaha!"
Eventually, she did. In wide-eyed surprise, she gazed at him, trying
not to giggle.
"Why Camilla" Constance cooed. "It appears our poor Edmund is
ticklish!"
That isn't all he is!" Priscilla laughed.
"Oh, my." Camilla breathed. her soft, slender fingers reached out to
lightly stroke his erect penis.
"Oh! Oooohhhh!" he moaned. He began to buck, to thrash wildly, but he
remained helpless as a baby before the three beautiful girls.
Priscilla also reached out...
"I don't know what we should do now, "Constance said, grinning. "I
truly fear for our safety should we release him in that state."
"Constance, please--Oh! Co--aahhh! Camilla, don't DON'T! Ahhhhhhh!
PriscillAAAHHHH! Mercy!" He wriggled helplessly under their strok
fingers. Constance, seated at the end of the bed, began to play idly
with his toes. He giggled, the stroking of his penis combining with
the tickling of his toes into a new sensation that drove him insane!
He laughed/gasped at their idletorture, unable to beg forrelease. And
not quite willing, either. Undaunted, they continued their
conversation without him.
Constance, what shall we do?" Priscilla cried, one toe swirling
around under his arm. He laughed helplessly, unable to move away from
it, his erection almost painful in its intensity.
"Perhaps..." Camilla ventured (idly tracing baroque patterns on his
ribs)
"Yes, dear?" Constance looked up from her examination of his toes. Her
own were now probing along his inner thigh, causing him to laugh and
cry helpessly, as he wiggled, jerked, and squirmed under their
ministrations--all to no avail.
"Perhaps," (curlicue, swirl) "if he were very tired..."
"Exhausted!" Priscilla agreed, rooting through the rolltop desk.
"I think you're right, Camilla" Constance paused to think, one toe
poised just below his scrotum. She wiggled it idly, sending him into
fresh convulsions.
God, please sta-ha-ha-haaaaap!"
"Yes," Constance affirmed. "for our own safety, we must not release
him until he is quite exhausted!" They all seemed pleased with that.
They paused, expectantly; fingers and toes held inches from his
helpless, naked body. He gasped for breath.
How" he managed, "how exhausted", he asked fearfully.
"I suppose" Constance giggled, "that we must tickle you into
submission!"
No!"
YES!" they all cried, and fell to it without mercy! Delicate fingers
danced along his ribs, wriggled around his stomach, and scratched at
his feet.
He screamed,
"Ahhhh--ha-ha-ha-ha--plea-hee-hee-hees-s-s-s-sto-ha-ha-ha-hap!!!!" He
bucked, wriggled, and squirmed, but the tickling torture went on and
on. He felt fingers circling around under his arms, swirling over his
naked ribs and tummy, wiggling round and round on the soles of his
feet! Then they attacked his toes, in between and under. Someone's
toes wiggled against his thighs, and someone else's agains his ribs.
All over his body,the maddening, merciless tickling! He tried to beg,
to plead for mercy, but he could only quiver in helpless laughter as
the girls tickled every helpless, naked inch of his body. He was
sourrounded by their giggles, the smell of their perfume.
He writhed under the touch of their hair, their silken gowns, and
their ever-present tickling fingers! After an eternity, it seemed,
they stopped.
Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho-ha-ha-ha. Oh. Oh. Oh, God" he breathed.
"Well," said Constance. "I suppose that will do for a start."
thought he might cry; he might go insane. Priscilla giggled
incessantly, Camilla regarded his helpless form from under long, dark
lashes. Constance eyed him like an amused cat, her deep green eyes
hypnotic in their intensity.
"Constance" he begged, "Constance, please; please no more!"
"Why, Edmund," she purred, "I don't believe you've ever called me
'Constance' before. But I suppose the circumstances aren't really that
formal, are they?" She grinned.
Priscilla trailed one bare toe down the length of his side. "Oh, is he
a ticklish little boy? Kitchee kitchee kooo!"
He jumped at the words, and at the gentle prodding of her delicate
foot. "This can't be real", he thought."This has to be a dream. Dear
God, let it be a dream!" He wasn't sure he meant it.
Constance," Camilla broke in "I think he's rested enough. We do want
to tire him."
"You're quite right, dear. Priscilla, did you find them?"
"Oh yes, Constance, they were in the desk, just where you said. I
found one for each of us! How shall we divide him up?" In her hand he
saw what she'd been after in the rolltop desk--three long, stiff quill
feathers. He began to sweat.
"Only three, dear? Are you sure?" Constance seemed disappointed.
Edmund was surprised at his relief. ONLY three?
"Constance--" he started.
"Hush." she said, placing one finger gently to his lips. "Edmund, if
you make one more sound, say one more word, we shall stay here all
night, and we shall tickle you the entire night. We shall tickle your
feet, tickle your ribs, tickle your neck, your tummy, and under your
arms. And then..." She glanced at Camilla and Priscilla, then leaned
very close, breathing softly in his ear, "And then, I shall send
Priscilla and Camilla away, and I will tickle your manhood until it
bursts." He lay there, very quietly, very tempted.
"What did you tell him?" Camilla asked.
"Something to keep him from begging for mercy."
"Constance!" Priscilla said, "I like hearing him beg for mercy."
I do too." Camilla added.
Constance shrugged, smiling. "I like watching him struggle not to."
Still giggling, they each took a feather. Helpless, he could only
watch as they gathered around him; Camilla at his left, Priscilla his
right, and Constance again at his feet.
They began slowly. At first it was only Priscilla and Camilla,
athers slowly gliding up and down his sides. He squirmed, stifling
the giggles that threatened to burst from his mouth as the feathers
went down his arms, under them, along his ribs, and towards his very
ticklish stomach. Then Constance began, twirling her feather along the
soles of his feet.
He thought he'd die--the tickling was unbearable. "MMh! MMh Hmm!" They
kept it up, feathers trailing slowly along his body and feet, just
slowly enough that he never quite gave in to the laughing fit that
threatened to overwhelm him. Constance watched intently, waiting for
the slightest sound. He knew she'd meant every word. He closed his
eyes, hoping to block out the whispers of touch.He felt a warm breath
on his neck. Risking a glimpse, he looked up into the deep blue eyes
of Camilla. They sparkled brightly in the lamplight. She leaned
nearer, and again he saw deep down into her nightdress. Then she began
to whisper.
"Tickle, tickle tickle. Kootchee kootchee kooo." The feathers
continued their slow, even strokes, but the added distraction seemed
to magnify the sensation. Worse, Camilla's hair and breath were
tickling his neck, and her nearness was intoxicating. "Kitchee kitchee
koooo. Who's a ticklish boy? Who's a helpless, naked, ticklish baby
boy?" She giggled, and he almost died of the effort not to join in. He
was weakening, and they knew it. Then he felt a warmth and a whisper
of breath from the other side.Priscilla was joining the new game.
"What a ticklish baby boy! Is he ticklish? Is he?" Her feather jerked
as she lost the rythm. Edmund jerked, too; as the quill skittered
along his inner thigh. Just then, Constance began to tickle between
his toes.
"Ahh! No! Nohopleaheeheeheeheeeese! Stohahahap! Stop! I ca--I ca-can't
sta-ha-ha-ha-hand it!
At once, they began in earnest. Again, they tickled his entire
body--feet, ribs, stomach--everywhere! He felt his erection growing
painfully hard, then something--toe, finger, or tongue; he never
knew--slid up and down his throbbing penis! Wriggling, bucking,
helplessly laughing; he nearly climaxed,but the tongue(?) withdrew,
and he was left with the tickling fingers. At last, they stopped.
"Ha-ha-ha-oh-go-ha-ha-ha-had, plea-he-he-heese sto-hap! Oh, stop.
Please. Please. Please. Please."
"Do you think he's tired enough?" Camilla grinned.
Constance looked down at him; helpless and naked before her; drench
in sweat, and still giggling."Edmund. You were not very quiet."
"Oh, Constance" Priscilla enthused. "What are you going to do to him?"
He looked up at her, not sure what he hoped for. She looked, as ever,
amused. "Nothing, I should think."
"Oh." The other two sighed. They were very disappointed.
"Thank God." Edmund breathed. He seemed disappointed, also.
"Nothing, till after we've bathed him."
Camilla nodded, while Priscilla gushed. "Oh my, yes!" Certainly, the
poor dear's been perspiring just a bit. We truly, truly should!"
Edmund couldn't speak. He was gasping, panting, and indeed drenched
with sweat. Silently, grateful for the blessed reprieve from their
fiendish tickling, he lay breathing, still feeling in his mind those
merciless fingers probing every inch of his helpless, naked, and
oh-so-ticklish body. He struggled feebly, surreptitiously (he hoped)
against the bonds which secured his wrists. If there ever had been any
hope of escaping them, it was now long gone. The knots--deftly
tied--had been pulled even tighter by his frantic struggles; and if
they had not broken then, he could certainly not now muster sufficient
force to break free. As his heart ceased to pound, he began to think.
His first thought: How to escape? His second: Did he want to? Revenge?
Against one, perhaps even two... but THREE sets of tickling fingers?
And how, Oh how could he ever stand before them again? Best, he
thought, to re-phrase that...
(To be continued below thanks to Wildtime)
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