laughter_n_love
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Nov 2, 2001
- Messages
- 293
- Points
- 0
As you lay on the bed with your heart thumping, your breathing uneven, and the hairs on your arms all standing on end, you review in your mind the chain of events that led to this moment. One minute, you were flirting on Kik with him like always, and the next, he was telling you that there was a hotel room reserved under your name. You didn't believe him until you phoned the hotel to call his bluff and found he wasn't bluffing. You remember how you suddenly felt all the pressure to match his boldness, and how in an instant you made arrangements to be free all that afternoon and evening. You expected him to chicken out once you told him you'd be there, but he didn't chicken out; you arrived at the hotel and found a package at the front desk waiting for you along with a room key. You remember waiting until you were safely in the room to open the package and see the leather cuffs and other toys he'd placed inside for you, and how your resolve was once again tested. And that the note on the bed had simply read, "Be ready for me", and how you knew without being told what that meant. You remember how surreal it felt to undress in a hotel room with the curtains closed in the middle of a Thursday afternoon, and how alien yet comforting the cuffs felt on your wrists and ankles after you slipped them on. You recall how you were able to stretch yourself out on the bed that had been prepared with the hooks at each corner to first secure your legs, and then, after placing the blindfold around your eyes, reach out to the corners and hook your wrists as well.
Now, made helpless and vulnerable all on your own, you wait for him to join you and do all the things he's promised so many times before in the safe confines of a chat window.
You wonder what you looked like, tied down, spread-eagled, naked and blindfolded, and how it will make him so hard once he finds you like this. You test the cuffs at your limbs and find that although you've been able to tie yourself down, you aren't sure you'll be able to untie yourself again if necessary. A moment of panic washes over you as you worry that he might not show, but then you remember that he has already been here to leave the package and the note, and that he is just making you wait to mess with your head. It's working.
Suddenly you hear a key being inserted into the door and you pray that it isn't housekeeping. Your heart hammers in your chest as you lay, exposed and completely helpless, at the mercy of whoever just entered. "Jake?" you softly call out, your voice trembling with fear.
There is no reply. You struggle to see through the blindfold, but you've blinded yourself too effectively. You hear what sounds like clothes ruffling, but you cannot make out what it might mean. There is a shift on the bed as the weight of another presses down on it, and you yelp despite your resolve to be brave. "Jake????" you call out, the panic more pronounced this time.
"That's Daddy, to you," he whispers, his voice barely a breath in your ear. You gasp in surprise, a nervous giggle of relief escaping your lips. Fears gives way to sexual anticipation as his lips and teeth capture your earlobe. The next phase of the game has begun.
A tongue along your ear sends shivers down your spine. "I'm not calling you that," you say, hoping your voice sounds more confident than you feel. You want to be as brave as you come across during your chats, but his mouth is making that increasingly difficult.
"We'll see," he murmurs.
"You scared the shit out of me," you say, smiling as his tongue tickles along the side of your neck. "Not that you care," you throw in, trying to provoke him. Provoking him is what you did in your chats, repeatedly goading him into vowing that one day he would make you pay for all your brattiness. Today was that day.
"Don't speak," he says quietly, still using only his mouth to worship along your neck and jawline. He's hardly touched you yet and already you can feel your nipples stiffening and a growing wetness between your legs.
"You're not the boss of me," you fire back, and almost before the words are out of your mouth, he grabs your face and forces his mouth on top of yours, smothering your lips with a hard, forceful kiss. Your heart leaps in your chest and the temperature between your legs grows several degrees hotter as his tongue invades your mouth and takes what it wants. You start to match his kiss with your own but his mouth is gone, leaving yours empty and wanting. Being unable to move is proving to be as frustrating as it is exhilarating. You bite your bottom lip, trying to anticipate his next move.
You don't have long to wait. You feel his hands gliding over your chest, his palms sliding over your nipples and making them bend and snap back into position. You gasp again, unprepared for how electric his touch would feel with you tied down like this. His hands are warm and just slightly rough, and his touch on your breasts and abdomen is making your stomach flutter like mad. You squirm involuntarily, realizing that he's already got you soaking wet between your legs and he's barely touched you yet. You begin to think he knew what he was talking about with this whole bondage thing.
"Touch me," you say, trying to exert some measure of control over the situation. The need between your legs is strong, and you are eager to feel him down there. You know it won't take much to make you cum at this point.
His fingertips flutter in the hollows of your underarms. "I said, no talking."
Though he'd talked about tickling until you couldn't stand it anymore, and though you'd made it clear to him that being tickled did nothing for you, you knew he would do this, and yet still you find yourself unprepared for the shock of it. Instantly you are wiggling to escape the maddening touch under your arms, and it is in that moment that the true extent of your helplessness is revealed to you. An involuntary giggle is forced out of your throat, and you utter a small scream of surprise that is very unlike your normally controlled demeanor. The tickle lasts only a moment, but now you realize the threat is real, and that notion both excites and terrifies you. "Don't," you say, before you realize your mistake. You've disobeyed his instructions again.
His fingers attack your ribs next, and another yelping scream leaps from your throat. You arch your back and thrash from side to side, but there is no escape from the fingertips wiggling into your ribs. The tickle lasts longer this time until your giggle escalates into full blown laughter and the muscles in your arms strain with the effort to lower them. Your mind tells you to scream for him to stop, but you ignore that instinct because the part of you that was bold enough to come here isn't ready to admit that this fetish of his is devastatingly effective.
As if he is reading your mind, you feel his mouth capture one of your nipples, and his tongue is flicking over the bud. For a moment your brain is confused by the mixed signals, and your body grows still as your nervous system tries to sort out the instructions. And then you are laughing and squirming again, but there is the pleasure of having his mouth on your breast mixed in with the tickling along your ribs, and you find yourself in no hurry to have either stimulus stop.
But the hands do stop, even as the mouth continues to worship your tits, and you grin hugely as your body torques towards where you feel his mouth. "That was inten..." you begin to say, but you never get to finish the thought. His fingers attack you with pokes and prods, this time lower on your sides, down by your hips and waist. Your body lurches off the bed as you explode in laughter again, and you barely have time to recognize that you've brought this torment on yourself.
As before, it is his mouth on your flesh that momentarily confuses your reflexes, this time he is licking along your pelvis at the top of your thigh. A gasp of hopeful anticipation breaks through the stream of giggles as you sense he is closer than ever to touching you between your legs and giving you sweet release. Your brain hardly has time to notice that the tickling has stopped before you are once again speaking. "Oh yes...please," you manage to get out this time before it starts again.
His fingers wiggle into your groin area, and this is the worst tickling yet. You howl in protest and squirm like a madwoman to close your legs, but there is no relief from the ticklish gouging of your inner thighs. Your head is thrown back and the laughter is long and loud now, and you wonder if subconsciously you are provoking him on purpose. Regardless, the tickling is unbearable between your legs, and you find yourself desperate for it to stop.
It doesn't stop, but it is accentuated by the feel of his mouth on your sex. As before, it is as though a charge of electricity is being run through you, and you rise up off the bed to meet his mouth. The tickling is making it harder to concentrate on the pleasure signals racing up from your clit as his tongue discovers it and flicks it hello, and you grind your teeth in frustration as another wave of laughter overtakes you. "Fuck!" you cry, realizing that it will prolong the torture but needing to curse nonetheless.
His fingers race up and down your legs, squeezing at your knees and kneading your hips, and all the while his mouth is worshipping your soaking sex. You whimper in agony, wondering how you are ever going to cum while he insists on tickling you at the same time, and then the question answers itself. Like an onrushing train that shows no sign of slowing as it reaches the station, your orgasm rises up and rips out of you. You groan loudly, your fists tight and your toes pointed, and your body arches off the bed as the waves of pleasure radiate outward from your sex. You don't feel the tickling in that moment, just the sheer ecstasy of release.
The next few seconds are unclear, but the next thing you are aware of is the feel of his cock brushing against your lips. Without hesitation, you open your mouth to accept it, and he obliges by sliding his hardness past your teeth. You wrap your lips around his member, letting him do the work of sliding his hips up and down, and wishing you had your hands free so you could give him proper head. But those thoughts do not last long as once again his mouth is teasing your womanhood, and you moan in surprise in pleasure though it is muffled by the cock in your mouth. You find yourself extra sensitive to his tongue so soon after cumming, and it is hard to concentrate on pleasuring him at the same time. As much as you are eager to enjoy the taste of his manhood, the pleasure emanating from between your legs is overwhelming. Within moments, he has you cumming for the second time, and the cock nestled between your lips remains unsatisfied. Your body tenses again and you utter a muffled cry of pleasure as best you can with your mouth full. You are breathing hard and sweating slightly as you detach your mouth and utter a humble, "Sorry."
He is moving above you, and your mouth cannot find his cock to finish what you started. There is a moment of dread as you realize that you've spoken again and what might be coming. "No, don't," you manage to utter, but it is already too late. As his short fingernails make contact with the soles of your bare feet, you scream at the top of your lungs and lurch in your bonds. You feel more ticklish than you've ever felt in your entire life, but whether it is due to all the months of buildup, the fact that you are tightly tied down, or that you've just enjoyed two intense orgasms, you cannot say. Your sensitive feet flail wildly to avoid his touch, but there is no relief to be had. "Fuck! Stop! Please!" you cry between forced laughter, unable to keep your tongue silent in the face of such unbearable torture. But the tickling goes on and on, as do your pleas for mercy and the constant sound of your laughter echoing off the hotel room walls.
He tickles your feet for what feels like forever but is in reality only a few minutes. The effects are devastating nonetheless. When he finally stops, your hair is plastered with sweat to your forehead, and your stomach aches from laughter, as do your limbs from constant straining. And as your breathing begins to return to normal and your heart beat slows to a safe speed, and the ghost fingers that still felt like they were tickling even after he was done begin to fade, you lay there like a limp ragdoll and realize that you didn't hate it as much as you thought you would. In fact, already you are sensing that he is done tormenting you and you aren't ready for this experience to be over. "Is that all you got?" you say before you can second-guess yourself.
When he is done tickling your feet for the second time, there is no sass left in you to goad him again. Every muscle in your body aches, and you are coughing to recover the breath stolen from your lungs. You don't know how your heart didn't burst right through your chest, and your voice will be hoarse tomorrow from all the screeching laughter and curse words torn from you, but there is a smile on your face, knowing that you've risen to his challenge and enjoyed it almost as much as you suspect he has.
You are aware of him unhooking your ankle cuffs from the bedposts, but you are too tired to move or react in any way. That changes in a heartbeat as he slides his engorged member deep into your sex. The size of him shocks you. "My god!" you cry, and you hear him chuckle as he thinks you are referring to him. His hips begin to thrust in and out, and you curl your fatigued legs around him to draw him in even deeper. Your world is suddenly all about and only about his cock invading your womanhood.
"Mmmmmmmm. You feel so good. You feel so fucking good," He says, and a flush of pleasure ripples over you at his words. "Fuck that cock, you dirty slut. Fuck it like you mean it." You can't help but react to being talked to like this, or rather, being talked down to like this. Your hips grind back into his as your core temperature rises to nuclear levels again. "That's it. That's my little slut. You like a good fuck, don't you? You like it when I fuck you hard, don't you?" His words do not offend, rather they speak to the subconscious part of you that agrees with him. You nod, unable to speak, unable to do anything but get fucked and fuck him back as best you can still tied to the bed. You start to swoon as his demeaning words and his pounding cock drive you to higher and higher levels of euphoria. His hand slaps your ass, and you yelp in pleasure, hoping he will do it again, which he does. Your brain cannot keep up with all the different stimuli flooding your system with pleasure endorphins, and you can do nothing but moan in time with each of his powerful thrusts. He drives you to the edge again, and this oncoming climax feels even stronger than the previous two. "That's it! Cum for me, you little slut. Cum all over my fat cock." Almost as if on cue, you are following his orders like the good slut he knows you to be, and you explode in an orgasm that is almost painful in its intensity.
He's not done though. He waits until your release begins to ebb before withdrawing himself and straddling your chest. You know what is coming, and you struggle to be free of the blindfold so you can witness him do this one last thing he promised he would do. He lifts the blindfold off your head to reveal, unsurprisingly, that he is stroking his cock just inches from your face. Instinctively, you open your mouth. The first spurt of semen catches your upper lip, and the next few hit your chin and your cheek and finally your tits. As you lay, still cuffed to the bed, feeling his hot cum dripping down your face and body, and still tingling all over from an afternoon of toe-curling orgasms, you give him a look of pure rapture. Everything he said would happen came to pass, and everything he said you would experience as a bound, naked, ticklish toy was exactly what you experienced, only even better than you imagined. He was right about all of it, except for one small thing.
"Thank you, Daddy," you whisper without a hint of sarcasm.
And then he was right about all of it.
Now, made helpless and vulnerable all on your own, you wait for him to join you and do all the things he's promised so many times before in the safe confines of a chat window.
You wonder what you looked like, tied down, spread-eagled, naked and blindfolded, and how it will make him so hard once he finds you like this. You test the cuffs at your limbs and find that although you've been able to tie yourself down, you aren't sure you'll be able to untie yourself again if necessary. A moment of panic washes over you as you worry that he might not show, but then you remember that he has already been here to leave the package and the note, and that he is just making you wait to mess with your head. It's working.
Suddenly you hear a key being inserted into the door and you pray that it isn't housekeeping. Your heart hammers in your chest as you lay, exposed and completely helpless, at the mercy of whoever just entered. "Jake?" you softly call out, your voice trembling with fear.
There is no reply. You struggle to see through the blindfold, but you've blinded yourself too effectively. You hear what sounds like clothes ruffling, but you cannot make out what it might mean. There is a shift on the bed as the weight of another presses down on it, and you yelp despite your resolve to be brave. "Jake????" you call out, the panic more pronounced this time.
"That's Daddy, to you," he whispers, his voice barely a breath in your ear. You gasp in surprise, a nervous giggle of relief escaping your lips. Fears gives way to sexual anticipation as his lips and teeth capture your earlobe. The next phase of the game has begun.
A tongue along your ear sends shivers down your spine. "I'm not calling you that," you say, hoping your voice sounds more confident than you feel. You want to be as brave as you come across during your chats, but his mouth is making that increasingly difficult.
"We'll see," he murmurs.
"You scared the shit out of me," you say, smiling as his tongue tickles along the side of your neck. "Not that you care," you throw in, trying to provoke him. Provoking him is what you did in your chats, repeatedly goading him into vowing that one day he would make you pay for all your brattiness. Today was that day.
"Don't speak," he says quietly, still using only his mouth to worship along your neck and jawline. He's hardly touched you yet and already you can feel your nipples stiffening and a growing wetness between your legs.
"You're not the boss of me," you fire back, and almost before the words are out of your mouth, he grabs your face and forces his mouth on top of yours, smothering your lips with a hard, forceful kiss. Your heart leaps in your chest and the temperature between your legs grows several degrees hotter as his tongue invades your mouth and takes what it wants. You start to match his kiss with your own but his mouth is gone, leaving yours empty and wanting. Being unable to move is proving to be as frustrating as it is exhilarating. You bite your bottom lip, trying to anticipate his next move.
You don't have long to wait. You feel his hands gliding over your chest, his palms sliding over your nipples and making them bend and snap back into position. You gasp again, unprepared for how electric his touch would feel with you tied down like this. His hands are warm and just slightly rough, and his touch on your breasts and abdomen is making your stomach flutter like mad. You squirm involuntarily, realizing that he's already got you soaking wet between your legs and he's barely touched you yet. You begin to think he knew what he was talking about with this whole bondage thing.
"Touch me," you say, trying to exert some measure of control over the situation. The need between your legs is strong, and you are eager to feel him down there. You know it won't take much to make you cum at this point.
His fingertips flutter in the hollows of your underarms. "I said, no talking."
Though he'd talked about tickling until you couldn't stand it anymore, and though you'd made it clear to him that being tickled did nothing for you, you knew he would do this, and yet still you find yourself unprepared for the shock of it. Instantly you are wiggling to escape the maddening touch under your arms, and it is in that moment that the true extent of your helplessness is revealed to you. An involuntary giggle is forced out of your throat, and you utter a small scream of surprise that is very unlike your normally controlled demeanor. The tickle lasts only a moment, but now you realize the threat is real, and that notion both excites and terrifies you. "Don't," you say, before you realize your mistake. You've disobeyed his instructions again.
His fingers attack your ribs next, and another yelping scream leaps from your throat. You arch your back and thrash from side to side, but there is no escape from the fingertips wiggling into your ribs. The tickle lasts longer this time until your giggle escalates into full blown laughter and the muscles in your arms strain with the effort to lower them. Your mind tells you to scream for him to stop, but you ignore that instinct because the part of you that was bold enough to come here isn't ready to admit that this fetish of his is devastatingly effective.
As if he is reading your mind, you feel his mouth capture one of your nipples, and his tongue is flicking over the bud. For a moment your brain is confused by the mixed signals, and your body grows still as your nervous system tries to sort out the instructions. And then you are laughing and squirming again, but there is the pleasure of having his mouth on your breast mixed in with the tickling along your ribs, and you find yourself in no hurry to have either stimulus stop.
But the hands do stop, even as the mouth continues to worship your tits, and you grin hugely as your body torques towards where you feel his mouth. "That was inten..." you begin to say, but you never get to finish the thought. His fingers attack you with pokes and prods, this time lower on your sides, down by your hips and waist. Your body lurches off the bed as you explode in laughter again, and you barely have time to recognize that you've brought this torment on yourself.
As before, it is his mouth on your flesh that momentarily confuses your reflexes, this time he is licking along your pelvis at the top of your thigh. A gasp of hopeful anticipation breaks through the stream of giggles as you sense he is closer than ever to touching you between your legs and giving you sweet release. Your brain hardly has time to notice that the tickling has stopped before you are once again speaking. "Oh yes...please," you manage to get out this time before it starts again.
His fingers wiggle into your groin area, and this is the worst tickling yet. You howl in protest and squirm like a madwoman to close your legs, but there is no relief from the ticklish gouging of your inner thighs. Your head is thrown back and the laughter is long and loud now, and you wonder if subconsciously you are provoking him on purpose. Regardless, the tickling is unbearable between your legs, and you find yourself desperate for it to stop.
It doesn't stop, but it is accentuated by the feel of his mouth on your sex. As before, it is as though a charge of electricity is being run through you, and you rise up off the bed to meet his mouth. The tickling is making it harder to concentrate on the pleasure signals racing up from your clit as his tongue discovers it and flicks it hello, and you grind your teeth in frustration as another wave of laughter overtakes you. "Fuck!" you cry, realizing that it will prolong the torture but needing to curse nonetheless.
His fingers race up and down your legs, squeezing at your knees and kneading your hips, and all the while his mouth is worshipping your soaking sex. You whimper in agony, wondering how you are ever going to cum while he insists on tickling you at the same time, and then the question answers itself. Like an onrushing train that shows no sign of slowing as it reaches the station, your orgasm rises up and rips out of you. You groan loudly, your fists tight and your toes pointed, and your body arches off the bed as the waves of pleasure radiate outward from your sex. You don't feel the tickling in that moment, just the sheer ecstasy of release.
The next few seconds are unclear, but the next thing you are aware of is the feel of his cock brushing against your lips. Without hesitation, you open your mouth to accept it, and he obliges by sliding his hardness past your teeth. You wrap your lips around his member, letting him do the work of sliding his hips up and down, and wishing you had your hands free so you could give him proper head. But those thoughts do not last long as once again his mouth is teasing your womanhood, and you moan in surprise in pleasure though it is muffled by the cock in your mouth. You find yourself extra sensitive to his tongue so soon after cumming, and it is hard to concentrate on pleasuring him at the same time. As much as you are eager to enjoy the taste of his manhood, the pleasure emanating from between your legs is overwhelming. Within moments, he has you cumming for the second time, and the cock nestled between your lips remains unsatisfied. Your body tenses again and you utter a muffled cry of pleasure as best you can with your mouth full. You are breathing hard and sweating slightly as you detach your mouth and utter a humble, "Sorry."
He is moving above you, and your mouth cannot find his cock to finish what you started. There is a moment of dread as you realize that you've spoken again and what might be coming. "No, don't," you manage to utter, but it is already too late. As his short fingernails make contact with the soles of your bare feet, you scream at the top of your lungs and lurch in your bonds. You feel more ticklish than you've ever felt in your entire life, but whether it is due to all the months of buildup, the fact that you are tightly tied down, or that you've just enjoyed two intense orgasms, you cannot say. Your sensitive feet flail wildly to avoid his touch, but there is no relief to be had. "Fuck! Stop! Please!" you cry between forced laughter, unable to keep your tongue silent in the face of such unbearable torture. But the tickling goes on and on, as do your pleas for mercy and the constant sound of your laughter echoing off the hotel room walls.
He tickles your feet for what feels like forever but is in reality only a few minutes. The effects are devastating nonetheless. When he finally stops, your hair is plastered with sweat to your forehead, and your stomach aches from laughter, as do your limbs from constant straining. And as your breathing begins to return to normal and your heart beat slows to a safe speed, and the ghost fingers that still felt like they were tickling even after he was done begin to fade, you lay there like a limp ragdoll and realize that you didn't hate it as much as you thought you would. In fact, already you are sensing that he is done tormenting you and you aren't ready for this experience to be over. "Is that all you got?" you say before you can second-guess yourself.
When he is done tickling your feet for the second time, there is no sass left in you to goad him again. Every muscle in your body aches, and you are coughing to recover the breath stolen from your lungs. You don't know how your heart didn't burst right through your chest, and your voice will be hoarse tomorrow from all the screeching laughter and curse words torn from you, but there is a smile on your face, knowing that you've risen to his challenge and enjoyed it almost as much as you suspect he has.
You are aware of him unhooking your ankle cuffs from the bedposts, but you are too tired to move or react in any way. That changes in a heartbeat as he slides his engorged member deep into your sex. The size of him shocks you. "My god!" you cry, and you hear him chuckle as he thinks you are referring to him. His hips begin to thrust in and out, and you curl your fatigued legs around him to draw him in even deeper. Your world is suddenly all about and only about his cock invading your womanhood.
"Mmmmmmmm. You feel so good. You feel so fucking good," He says, and a flush of pleasure ripples over you at his words. "Fuck that cock, you dirty slut. Fuck it like you mean it." You can't help but react to being talked to like this, or rather, being talked down to like this. Your hips grind back into his as your core temperature rises to nuclear levels again. "That's it. That's my little slut. You like a good fuck, don't you? You like it when I fuck you hard, don't you?" His words do not offend, rather they speak to the subconscious part of you that agrees with him. You nod, unable to speak, unable to do anything but get fucked and fuck him back as best you can still tied to the bed. You start to swoon as his demeaning words and his pounding cock drive you to higher and higher levels of euphoria. His hand slaps your ass, and you yelp in pleasure, hoping he will do it again, which he does. Your brain cannot keep up with all the different stimuli flooding your system with pleasure endorphins, and you can do nothing but moan in time with each of his powerful thrusts. He drives you to the edge again, and this oncoming climax feels even stronger than the previous two. "That's it! Cum for me, you little slut. Cum all over my fat cock." Almost as if on cue, you are following his orders like the good slut he knows you to be, and you explode in an orgasm that is almost painful in its intensity.
He's not done though. He waits until your release begins to ebb before withdrawing himself and straddling your chest. You know what is coming, and you struggle to be free of the blindfold so you can witness him do this one last thing he promised he would do. He lifts the blindfold off your head to reveal, unsurprisingly, that he is stroking his cock just inches from your face. Instinctively, you open your mouth. The first spurt of semen catches your upper lip, and the next few hit your chin and your cheek and finally your tits. As you lay, still cuffed to the bed, feeling his hot cum dripping down your face and body, and still tingling all over from an afternoon of toe-curling orgasms, you give him a look of pure rapture. Everything he said would happen came to pass, and everything he said you would experience as a bound, naked, ticklish toy was exactly what you experienced, only even better than you imagined. He was right about all of it, except for one small thing.
"Thank you, Daddy," you whisper without a hint of sarcasm.
And then he was right about all of it.
