TicklishMina
Registered User
- Joined
- Aug 9, 2022
- Messages
- 1
- Points
- 0
I quickly checked my watch, I was a good hour or so early for meeting my friend. I bit my lip in frustration, all dressed up and nowhere to go quite yet, I considered heading into the bar and getting a glass of chilled wine to wind down and relax after the busy day, but, it was a beautiful summer's evening, and it didn't seem quite right to be sitting alone, drinking, when the hazy sunshine was there to be enjoyed. Glancing down the street, I smiled at how the sun had turned the plate glass windows of the buildings into huge, highly polished bronze shields. One building of which, had a sign stating 'Art Gallery'.
'Perfect' I thought, and headed over there, enjoying how the light breeze was playing with the flimsy material of my summer dress. Falling to just below my knees, I loved how the material swished around my thighs, showing my full figure as I walked. I'm not a small girl, but I'm lucky with my shape, and my full hips and breasts frequently attracted looks from many admirers, often with lustful intent. I liked how that felt, to be openly desired, to be wanted.
Stepping into the entrance to the gallery, it appeared there was some sort of exhibition opening in progress. My strappy heels clicked loudly on the smooth marble floor, feeling suddenly out of place, I thought perhaps I should leave. Before I could change my mind, a glass of something fizzy was pushed into my hand by an enthusiastic hostess who gave me a huge smile, and gestured for me to walk through to the main space.
Thanking her with a smile, I wandered through into the vast gallery space. High ceilings, a light, bright and modern space, I took a sip of my drink as I considered where to start. Groups of people were milling in front of different, large scale pictures, so I headed away from the busiest areas toward a huge canvas on the far side of the room. It was an amazing piece, it almost seemed to change the closer I got to it. An accomplished landscape depiction for sure, but in different lights and aspects it showed almost what seemed like figures moving...
Screwing my eyes up to see if I could make head nor tail of what I was seeing, i stepped closer, until I was right up next to the canvas. Looking closely at the brush strokes... there was something almost sensual about how the paint had been 'caressed' onto the scenes... the weight of the brushstrokes starting with purpose and then trailing off to a light, fine whisper... it was hard to see where the mark finished and the next started... I closed my eyes momentarily and wondered what sort of artist could paint like that... the command of their paintbrush... the depth and lightness of pressure, what would that feel like tracing patterns across my nylon clad soles... across my naked body...
I stood back and sighed quietly, I realised that I'd been holding my breath in my examination... it had been a long time since I'd been tickled and scrutinising the beauty of the painting made me ache to feel that sweet torture again. It wasn't an easy thing to bring up with my lovers, mostly they laughed and called me weird, and those who tried, never really hit the spot. Never really teased and pushed me as far as I craved...
Almost as soon as I realised I'd been holding my breath, I felt the hairs on my neck pricking, was I being watched? I turned my head to the right, nothing untoward... and then over to the left, there he was.
There was a man, say, 10-15 years older than me, tall, dark hair, wearing a white shirt, cuffs turned back to reveal his forearms... those arms... his hands looked wonderfully skilled, something that I adored more than anything... and he was wearing dark blue jeans. But it was his piercing blue eyes that made me check my grasp on my glass. The way he looked at me, I... couldn't describe.
He smiled a half smile which made those eyes sparkle with a mirth that reassured, and yet unsettled me at the same time. I instantly felt colour rise to my cheeks, and giggled nervously, I was glad he was far enough from me to not hear my childish reaction. As he turned to his friends, there was something about his poise, and the way he moved that piqued my curiosity. I couldn't stop looking at his hands and fingers.
Pulling myself together, I shook my head and took a deep breath, walking over to another painting. The clicking of my heels punctuating each step, echoing around the room.
"Come on, nearly time to go meet Effie anyway" I thought, and finished the remaining Prosecco.
Turning to leave, I bumped into the mystery man who was now, right in front of me. Startled, I stepped back, flushing again my damned cheeks always seeking to embarrass me, I flicked my eyes down momentarily and then back up at him, wide eyed.
"er, I'm sorry! I didnt see you there!"
He laughed, "Don't worry, I can see you just fine, my dear."
Gesturing widely with his left arm, he tipped his head to one side and smiled at me again,
"So, are you enjoying the exhibition? See anything you like?"
I nodded and returned his smile,
"I, er... the picture over there, is quite breathtaking, the artistry up close is... indescribable... um..."
Shifting imperceptibly from one foot to another, I chewed my bottom lip, how could I explain to this unknown man, the images in my head and why the brushstrokes intrigued me so...
"That sounds interesting, care to show me? Oh, and by the way, I'm the*Pittore*of this little lot, so your opinion is very very interesting to me..."
I could feel my heart racing in my chest, what sort of art critic was I? And I certainly wasn't in any position to be saying anything to the actual artist, but... he did seem genuinely interested in my thoughts, and shamefully, now i knew he was the master who wielded these sensuous brushstrokes... maybe grabbing a few minutes more with him wasn't such a bad plan...
Leading the way back over to the first painting, the hum in the gallery space had quietened considerably, and the sun outside had started to set. Golden shafts of light slanted through the space, time seemed to stand still as I stood in front of the canvas once more.
"You see, here... and here..."
I gestured to little areas of brushstrokes, as he leaned right in to the areas I'd detailed, I felt perhaps I should move out of the way but... the closer he was to me, it felt like electricity flowing between us.
"Ah, the... brushstrokes... I was fascinated by the pressure... um... um... how you could so precisely, skilfully..."
The scent of him so close to me scrambled my train of thought... He turned his head now, literally inches from my upturned face, I realised much to my dismay that I was holding my breath again.
He chuckled again, and stepped back.
"Well yes, there's lots of reasons for that, but that isn't the real reason you're asking though is it...? Hmmmmmm? Here, let me take that glass from you, I can't have you standing here with an empty glass. Would you care for a personal tour, and to share another drink with me?"
I nodded again, I couldn't refuse his polite offer, and as he reached for my glass, his fingers brushed lightly across the back of my hand, goosebumps raising along my arm, causing my hand to tremble slightly.
His eyes flicked up to meet mine, the mirth still there, but also now, a hunger I hadn't noticed before. Taking the glass, he placed his hand gently on the small of my back, the flimsy material being a pointless barrier to my naked body... as we walked back to the drinks table, I felt his fingertips tracing lazy circles through my dress. I could hardly think, I didnt know this man, I wasn't even meant to be in this place but... I felt under his spell now, and his touch was making my body react to him in a way I hadn't felt in a very very long time...
He was talking small talk about the exhibition as he had my glass refilled, but it was when he took his hand from my back that I felt a sense of loss. I wanted his hand back in contact with me... all of me... my nipples were erect and crying for attention, something that I doubted he hadn't noticed in this dress, and oh, I couldn't stop thinking of what delicious, aching agony he could flicker and paint across my sensitive flesh with his fingers and brushes...
"Penny for your thoughts little one?"
His quietly whispered words sliced through my reverie... sending goosebumps rippling across my body. I gasped... 'Little one'... Pittore... I knew all of a sudden why this man seemed so familiar. I had often read tickling erotica online, in forums, and there was an artist who would write the most delicious tales of diabolical tickling, his handle... "Pittore". I would devour his stories and daydream about this mystery man... but how? Could this even be him? It must be, everything added up. He would always torture his protagonists and call them "Little one". Could I be right?
"Pittore?" I breathed... I couldn't say anything else... looking up into his hypnotic gaze once more. "The*P... pittore...?" I stuttered as he smiled a very broad grin which I imagined he could almost devour me.
"Yes indeed..." He said brightly "Which means you must enjoy the same things I do,*Little One... and now? I rather think, if you're interested, I should show you my studio"
I looked at him wide eyed, was this really happening? Was this for real? Should I trust him? Was he just a fantasist... would I be the next protagonist in his erotic tales? I was helpless now... my whole body was crying out for this, for what I yearned for...
"Yes... yes, I would love to see your studio" and bit my lip to hide the smile threatening to light up my features.
His smile seemed wicked now, terrifying and wonderful all at once.
"Right this way... step into my lair"
And with that, he encircled my waist with his arm and drew me close, whispering "Perhaps I can show you just how those brushstrokes that fascinated you so much... work in reality..."
Chapter 2
As we walked through the gallery, the sultry heat of the evening bathed my skin, every nerve ending of my body suddenly became heightened to the tension that quite clearly fizzed between us. He knew that I desired the same things as he did, and I felt as though I was being inexorably drawn into his web... of delight? Or torture, I wanted to find out, despite my brain screaming that I knew nothing of this anonymous internet man. For all I knew he could be a serial killer stalking his next prey...
Prey. The word sent shivers down my spine.
"Goosebumps eh little one?" he whispered in my ear, the goosebumps growing stronger with the brush of his lips on my ear lobe. I gasped quietly, my breathing stuttering in my throat, as I felt his hand skitter across my hips, the other holding me firmly in his grasp as I squirmed.
"Why don't we get out of here? I find such exhibitions quite dull... necessary, but... I have something else i'd rather be doing right now, don't you think?" and he smiled at me, that smile again, making my heart thump so hard I swear everyone in the room could hear.
I nodded, mute, unable to form words right now, and I let him steer me toward the back of the gallery.
"We can get to my studio this way - I have a couple of bottles of something nice we could share... afterwards, if you desire?"
Afterwards. After what?
Before I had a chance to answer, we were walking through a heavy looking silver metal door, which he bolted behind us, and it surprised me how much sound it cut out from the gallery. It was silent in this hallway, and at the end of the hall, was another, similar door.
"Ah, you might notice the 'reinforcements' well, I don't like to be disturbed when i paint. But it also has its benefits of when i paint my victims too..."
I took a step back at this point. His tone had changed, and it wasn't the seductive tone he'd used before. My eyes darted around, looking for escape, but knowing these two doors were the only options. Back to safety, was the door he'd bolted shut. The other? He said it was his studio but how could I know? He was staring at me now, his smile half across his lips, he seemed to be enjoying the fear creeping through me.
"Come now... " He walked toward me, I felt as though I should call for help, but he was hypnotic. Wide eyed, all I could do was stand there and watch him advance.
Things happened quickly then, he took my wrist, and spun me around, catching my other wrist behind my back, holding them both within his grasp. Pulling me against him, his free hand explored my torso, tickling and teasing my ribs and rounded tummy. My laughter bounced off the walls in this small hallway, my knees weak, as I twisted and turned and squirmed, trying to get away, but I could feel his breath on my neck and washing over my shoulders, and I was completely on fire. Wet. Soaked. My lace panties were completely useless at covering my dignity at this point.
He stopped his assault, as I gasped, trying to gather my composure, my skin pretty much burning through the flimsy material of my dress. I gingerly tried to peek at his expression, to see what he was thinking, he was watching me closely, so i quickly looked away. Half lifting me, we started to move forward, I stumbled in my strappy sandals. They were my favourite ones as I thought they made my feet look attractive, showing off my arches, and my toes, neither were particularly stunning, but I kept them neat and soft, in the hope of catching the eye of a prospective tickler. But now I was cursing them, I was off balance, and I couldn't run in them even if I'd tried.
The momentum carried us forward and through the door at the end of the hallway, I shook my head to move an errant, auburn curl out of my eyes and as I viewed this new room, my eyes widened further, in terror. It was an artists studio, yes, but that wasn't what had shocked me. There were, what looked like a series of devices, one, almost a medieval rack, with stocks at top and bottom, another, a gynaecology chair, with stirrups and straps, lots of straps, a St Andrews Cross, leaning against a wall, and various chains hanging from the ceiling. Supposedly these were for canvases, but judging by the other items, I wasn't so sure.
Moving us to the centre of the room, underneath the chains hanging from the ceiling, i noticed now, had leather cuffs at the bottom of them. He spun me back around, so that we were face to face. Looking up into his eyes, he smiled again.
"Now, don't worry little one, it's perfectly normal to be nervous, I won't hurt you... much... I promise... you know of me, you know what delights me, and I am sure, you're going to delight me immensely..."
Pulling a chain down from the ceiling, he deftly cuffed my right wrist to it, and then reaching another, he cuffed my left wrist. Cupping my chin in his hand, he studied me carefully, brushing his thumb over my parted lips, sending another shiver through my trembling body. Walking off to the side, i dared not follow where he was going now. So many thoughts and feelings were scrambling through my mind, yet the overriding one, was that this was a huge fantasy, about to come true. I was terrified, true, but I was also completely aroused by all of it.
Breaking my reverie, I felt my wrists being ratcheted above my head, apart, wide apart, and I was pulled upright. Panic, started to set in, was I going to be dangled off the floor? But thankfully it stopped just as I was almost on tip toes, now, i was grateful for my heels. I swayed a little, trying to maintain my balance, and i was aware that he was behind me again...
"Are you ready to please your Pittore Little one? Just how ticklish... are you?" and with that I felt his fingers trace down the insides of both arms, from my elbows, the fire of his touch caused me to struggle and twist, please no!!!!!!! I thought, not my armpits, they were the worst place for me, well, one of them... I started to whimper as I struggled, his fingers tracing those infernal circles again, each twist of my body away from his touch, met with his body close behind me, I was inadvertently grinding against him, his body... hard and immovable... oh my....
I screamed and begged as his fingers found my armpits, thrashing wildly, as wildly as I could stretched out and tottering on these now hellish heels. Slipping his hands inside my dress, a brief respite as he embraced me from behind, his lips to my ear again...
"Tickle tickle little one... this is just the warm up you know... just so i can learn your body... your terrible... wonderful telltale spots... i'm going to explore and exploit every single one with my brushes... you think my fingers are bad? Well... perhaps you'll enjoy being painted by your Pittore... that's my real forte you know... they're incredibly ticklish..."
The way he said 'ticklish' struck dread right through me, my heart hammering in my chest. Pure dread. Pure pleasure. My quivering body pressed hard to his, i could feel his fingertips move to my nipples, massaging them through my bra. A violation... had I consented to this? He tweaked them in turn, pulling and rolling them through the lacy material, the scratching of the lace adding to the sensual torture I tipped my head back onto his shoulder and let out an unbidden, feral moan.
He chuckled and then lightened his touch, the insistence of his fingers feathering across my breasts in tandem. My breathing stuttering again as my body started to convulse and writhe, trying to get away from these evil digits. There was no escape from this man, this situation, I was strung up like a piece of meat, for his pleasure, and... i had never felt so desired and aroused.
His fingers continued to explore my breasts and my ribs, pulling my dress up higher for access to my hips, and then he pulled away from me. I sagged from my wrists, gasping for air, feeling almost a loss... until I realised he had dropped to his knee, I flushed bright red as I realised he must be able to smell my scent, the betrayal of my arousal... I felt a hand tracing up the inside of my right leg, I couldn't help but whimper and my legs began to shake with the effort of remaining upright in this torture. I tried to squeeze my legs together to stop his access to my inner thighs and worse... but instead he slapped my thighs, and pulled them apart, spreading me wide so that i was truly open to his attentions. My cheeks burned with embarrassment as he explored my trembling legs, tracing the tops of my thigh high stockings with his fingers, as I attempted to pull away from him again. But I quickly felt a firm grip on my ankle, growing stronger still as i felt fingers burrowing into the back of my knee. I yelped as my leg gave way and I swayed, literally hanging from my wrists now.
"Pittore no!!!!!!!!" I was sobbing and twisting for all I was worth, but he carried on as I thrashed, the muscles in my upper body screaming as I hung from my shackles. He tickled and teased every inch of my nylon clad thighs and knees, every touch now, making my body twitch and spasm. Panting, the tears flowed freely down my cheeks, my mascara would be ruined for sure... but that was the last of my worries. He said this was the start of things to come.
He was just getting started
He stood up in front of me.
"Interesting, interesting..." he ran a finger over his lips, apparently deep in thought... "Yes, that's going to have to come off... and that... but those and those can stay. Well, for a short while anyway..." and he waved his hand toward me.
What could come off? Oh no... no... what was I thinking? Of course, what else could he mean? The barriers of safety, the clothes, my clothes... that could only be what he meant...
Stepping close to me once more, he tipped his head to the side, and then started to unbutton my dress. Starting at the top, he revealed my lacy bra, button... by... button... so painstakingly slowly...
"Oh little one... what lovely, sensitive flesh you have for me to play with... ooh... what's that... this deep red flush across your chest... are you wet for your Pittore? Do you like my hands on you? Do you want more? Oh... look... your nipples are hard... but you protested so much... tsk tsk... you protested and struggled but... you*liked*it... such a little slut aren't you... oh yes... i'm going to enjoy you a great deal..."
And with that, the last button of my dress was undone... and clearly... so was I.
'Perfect' I thought, and headed over there, enjoying how the light breeze was playing with the flimsy material of my summer dress. Falling to just below my knees, I loved how the material swished around my thighs, showing my full figure as I walked. I'm not a small girl, but I'm lucky with my shape, and my full hips and breasts frequently attracted looks from many admirers, often with lustful intent. I liked how that felt, to be openly desired, to be wanted.
Stepping into the entrance to the gallery, it appeared there was some sort of exhibition opening in progress. My strappy heels clicked loudly on the smooth marble floor, feeling suddenly out of place, I thought perhaps I should leave. Before I could change my mind, a glass of something fizzy was pushed into my hand by an enthusiastic hostess who gave me a huge smile, and gestured for me to walk through to the main space.
Thanking her with a smile, I wandered through into the vast gallery space. High ceilings, a light, bright and modern space, I took a sip of my drink as I considered where to start. Groups of people were milling in front of different, large scale pictures, so I headed away from the busiest areas toward a huge canvas on the far side of the room. It was an amazing piece, it almost seemed to change the closer I got to it. An accomplished landscape depiction for sure, but in different lights and aspects it showed almost what seemed like figures moving...
Screwing my eyes up to see if I could make head nor tail of what I was seeing, i stepped closer, until I was right up next to the canvas. Looking closely at the brush strokes... there was something almost sensual about how the paint had been 'caressed' onto the scenes... the weight of the brushstrokes starting with purpose and then trailing off to a light, fine whisper... it was hard to see where the mark finished and the next started... I closed my eyes momentarily and wondered what sort of artist could paint like that... the command of their paintbrush... the depth and lightness of pressure, what would that feel like tracing patterns across my nylon clad soles... across my naked body...
I stood back and sighed quietly, I realised that I'd been holding my breath in my examination... it had been a long time since I'd been tickled and scrutinising the beauty of the painting made me ache to feel that sweet torture again. It wasn't an easy thing to bring up with my lovers, mostly they laughed and called me weird, and those who tried, never really hit the spot. Never really teased and pushed me as far as I craved...
Almost as soon as I realised I'd been holding my breath, I felt the hairs on my neck pricking, was I being watched? I turned my head to the right, nothing untoward... and then over to the left, there he was.
There was a man, say, 10-15 years older than me, tall, dark hair, wearing a white shirt, cuffs turned back to reveal his forearms... those arms... his hands looked wonderfully skilled, something that I adored more than anything... and he was wearing dark blue jeans. But it was his piercing blue eyes that made me check my grasp on my glass. The way he looked at me, I... couldn't describe.
He smiled a half smile which made those eyes sparkle with a mirth that reassured, and yet unsettled me at the same time. I instantly felt colour rise to my cheeks, and giggled nervously, I was glad he was far enough from me to not hear my childish reaction. As he turned to his friends, there was something about his poise, and the way he moved that piqued my curiosity. I couldn't stop looking at his hands and fingers.
Pulling myself together, I shook my head and took a deep breath, walking over to another painting. The clicking of my heels punctuating each step, echoing around the room.
"Come on, nearly time to go meet Effie anyway" I thought, and finished the remaining Prosecco.
Turning to leave, I bumped into the mystery man who was now, right in front of me. Startled, I stepped back, flushing again my damned cheeks always seeking to embarrass me, I flicked my eyes down momentarily and then back up at him, wide eyed.
"er, I'm sorry! I didnt see you there!"
He laughed, "Don't worry, I can see you just fine, my dear."
Gesturing widely with his left arm, he tipped his head to one side and smiled at me again,
"So, are you enjoying the exhibition? See anything you like?"
I nodded and returned his smile,
"I, er... the picture over there, is quite breathtaking, the artistry up close is... indescribable... um..."
Shifting imperceptibly from one foot to another, I chewed my bottom lip, how could I explain to this unknown man, the images in my head and why the brushstrokes intrigued me so...
"That sounds interesting, care to show me? Oh, and by the way, I'm the*Pittore*of this little lot, so your opinion is very very interesting to me..."
I could feel my heart racing in my chest, what sort of art critic was I? And I certainly wasn't in any position to be saying anything to the actual artist, but... he did seem genuinely interested in my thoughts, and shamefully, now i knew he was the master who wielded these sensuous brushstrokes... maybe grabbing a few minutes more with him wasn't such a bad plan...
Leading the way back over to the first painting, the hum in the gallery space had quietened considerably, and the sun outside had started to set. Golden shafts of light slanted through the space, time seemed to stand still as I stood in front of the canvas once more.
"You see, here... and here..."
I gestured to little areas of brushstrokes, as he leaned right in to the areas I'd detailed, I felt perhaps I should move out of the way but... the closer he was to me, it felt like electricity flowing between us.
"Ah, the... brushstrokes... I was fascinated by the pressure... um... um... how you could so precisely, skilfully..."
The scent of him so close to me scrambled my train of thought... He turned his head now, literally inches from my upturned face, I realised much to my dismay that I was holding my breath again.
He chuckled again, and stepped back.
"Well yes, there's lots of reasons for that, but that isn't the real reason you're asking though is it...? Hmmmmmm? Here, let me take that glass from you, I can't have you standing here with an empty glass. Would you care for a personal tour, and to share another drink with me?"
I nodded again, I couldn't refuse his polite offer, and as he reached for my glass, his fingers brushed lightly across the back of my hand, goosebumps raising along my arm, causing my hand to tremble slightly.
His eyes flicked up to meet mine, the mirth still there, but also now, a hunger I hadn't noticed before. Taking the glass, he placed his hand gently on the small of my back, the flimsy material being a pointless barrier to my naked body... as we walked back to the drinks table, I felt his fingertips tracing lazy circles through my dress. I could hardly think, I didnt know this man, I wasn't even meant to be in this place but... I felt under his spell now, and his touch was making my body react to him in a way I hadn't felt in a very very long time...
He was talking small talk about the exhibition as he had my glass refilled, but it was when he took his hand from my back that I felt a sense of loss. I wanted his hand back in contact with me... all of me... my nipples were erect and crying for attention, something that I doubted he hadn't noticed in this dress, and oh, I couldn't stop thinking of what delicious, aching agony he could flicker and paint across my sensitive flesh with his fingers and brushes...
"Penny for your thoughts little one?"
His quietly whispered words sliced through my reverie... sending goosebumps rippling across my body. I gasped... 'Little one'... Pittore... I knew all of a sudden why this man seemed so familiar. I had often read tickling erotica online, in forums, and there was an artist who would write the most delicious tales of diabolical tickling, his handle... "Pittore". I would devour his stories and daydream about this mystery man... but how? Could this even be him? It must be, everything added up. He would always torture his protagonists and call them "Little one". Could I be right?
"Pittore?" I breathed... I couldn't say anything else... looking up into his hypnotic gaze once more. "The*P... pittore...?" I stuttered as he smiled a very broad grin which I imagined he could almost devour me.
"Yes indeed..." He said brightly "Which means you must enjoy the same things I do,*Little One... and now? I rather think, if you're interested, I should show you my studio"
I looked at him wide eyed, was this really happening? Was this for real? Should I trust him? Was he just a fantasist... would I be the next protagonist in his erotic tales? I was helpless now... my whole body was crying out for this, for what I yearned for...
"Yes... yes, I would love to see your studio" and bit my lip to hide the smile threatening to light up my features.
His smile seemed wicked now, terrifying and wonderful all at once.
"Right this way... step into my lair"
And with that, he encircled my waist with his arm and drew me close, whispering "Perhaps I can show you just how those brushstrokes that fascinated you so much... work in reality..."
Chapter 2
As we walked through the gallery, the sultry heat of the evening bathed my skin, every nerve ending of my body suddenly became heightened to the tension that quite clearly fizzed between us. He knew that I desired the same things as he did, and I felt as though I was being inexorably drawn into his web... of delight? Or torture, I wanted to find out, despite my brain screaming that I knew nothing of this anonymous internet man. For all I knew he could be a serial killer stalking his next prey...
Prey. The word sent shivers down my spine.
"Goosebumps eh little one?" he whispered in my ear, the goosebumps growing stronger with the brush of his lips on my ear lobe. I gasped quietly, my breathing stuttering in my throat, as I felt his hand skitter across my hips, the other holding me firmly in his grasp as I squirmed.
"Why don't we get out of here? I find such exhibitions quite dull... necessary, but... I have something else i'd rather be doing right now, don't you think?" and he smiled at me, that smile again, making my heart thump so hard I swear everyone in the room could hear.
I nodded, mute, unable to form words right now, and I let him steer me toward the back of the gallery.
"We can get to my studio this way - I have a couple of bottles of something nice we could share... afterwards, if you desire?"
Afterwards. After what?
Before I had a chance to answer, we were walking through a heavy looking silver metal door, which he bolted behind us, and it surprised me how much sound it cut out from the gallery. It was silent in this hallway, and at the end of the hall, was another, similar door.
"Ah, you might notice the 'reinforcements' well, I don't like to be disturbed when i paint. But it also has its benefits of when i paint my victims too..."
I took a step back at this point. His tone had changed, and it wasn't the seductive tone he'd used before. My eyes darted around, looking for escape, but knowing these two doors were the only options. Back to safety, was the door he'd bolted shut. The other? He said it was his studio but how could I know? He was staring at me now, his smile half across his lips, he seemed to be enjoying the fear creeping through me.
"Come now... " He walked toward me, I felt as though I should call for help, but he was hypnotic. Wide eyed, all I could do was stand there and watch him advance.
Things happened quickly then, he took my wrist, and spun me around, catching my other wrist behind my back, holding them both within his grasp. Pulling me against him, his free hand explored my torso, tickling and teasing my ribs and rounded tummy. My laughter bounced off the walls in this small hallway, my knees weak, as I twisted and turned and squirmed, trying to get away, but I could feel his breath on my neck and washing over my shoulders, and I was completely on fire. Wet. Soaked. My lace panties were completely useless at covering my dignity at this point.
He stopped his assault, as I gasped, trying to gather my composure, my skin pretty much burning through the flimsy material of my dress. I gingerly tried to peek at his expression, to see what he was thinking, he was watching me closely, so i quickly looked away. Half lifting me, we started to move forward, I stumbled in my strappy sandals. They were my favourite ones as I thought they made my feet look attractive, showing off my arches, and my toes, neither were particularly stunning, but I kept them neat and soft, in the hope of catching the eye of a prospective tickler. But now I was cursing them, I was off balance, and I couldn't run in them even if I'd tried.
The momentum carried us forward and through the door at the end of the hallway, I shook my head to move an errant, auburn curl out of my eyes and as I viewed this new room, my eyes widened further, in terror. It was an artists studio, yes, but that wasn't what had shocked me. There were, what looked like a series of devices, one, almost a medieval rack, with stocks at top and bottom, another, a gynaecology chair, with stirrups and straps, lots of straps, a St Andrews Cross, leaning against a wall, and various chains hanging from the ceiling. Supposedly these were for canvases, but judging by the other items, I wasn't so sure.
Moving us to the centre of the room, underneath the chains hanging from the ceiling, i noticed now, had leather cuffs at the bottom of them. He spun me back around, so that we were face to face. Looking up into his eyes, he smiled again.
"Now, don't worry little one, it's perfectly normal to be nervous, I won't hurt you... much... I promise... you know of me, you know what delights me, and I am sure, you're going to delight me immensely..."
Pulling a chain down from the ceiling, he deftly cuffed my right wrist to it, and then reaching another, he cuffed my left wrist. Cupping my chin in his hand, he studied me carefully, brushing his thumb over my parted lips, sending another shiver through my trembling body. Walking off to the side, i dared not follow where he was going now. So many thoughts and feelings were scrambling through my mind, yet the overriding one, was that this was a huge fantasy, about to come true. I was terrified, true, but I was also completely aroused by all of it.
Breaking my reverie, I felt my wrists being ratcheted above my head, apart, wide apart, and I was pulled upright. Panic, started to set in, was I going to be dangled off the floor? But thankfully it stopped just as I was almost on tip toes, now, i was grateful for my heels. I swayed a little, trying to maintain my balance, and i was aware that he was behind me again...
"Are you ready to please your Pittore Little one? Just how ticklish... are you?" and with that I felt his fingers trace down the insides of both arms, from my elbows, the fire of his touch caused me to struggle and twist, please no!!!!!!! I thought, not my armpits, they were the worst place for me, well, one of them... I started to whimper as I struggled, his fingers tracing those infernal circles again, each twist of my body away from his touch, met with his body close behind me, I was inadvertently grinding against him, his body... hard and immovable... oh my....
I screamed and begged as his fingers found my armpits, thrashing wildly, as wildly as I could stretched out and tottering on these now hellish heels. Slipping his hands inside my dress, a brief respite as he embraced me from behind, his lips to my ear again...
"Tickle tickle little one... this is just the warm up you know... just so i can learn your body... your terrible... wonderful telltale spots... i'm going to explore and exploit every single one with my brushes... you think my fingers are bad? Well... perhaps you'll enjoy being painted by your Pittore... that's my real forte you know... they're incredibly ticklish..."
The way he said 'ticklish' struck dread right through me, my heart hammering in my chest. Pure dread. Pure pleasure. My quivering body pressed hard to his, i could feel his fingertips move to my nipples, massaging them through my bra. A violation... had I consented to this? He tweaked them in turn, pulling and rolling them through the lacy material, the scratching of the lace adding to the sensual torture I tipped my head back onto his shoulder and let out an unbidden, feral moan.
He chuckled and then lightened his touch, the insistence of his fingers feathering across my breasts in tandem. My breathing stuttering again as my body started to convulse and writhe, trying to get away from these evil digits. There was no escape from this man, this situation, I was strung up like a piece of meat, for his pleasure, and... i had never felt so desired and aroused.
His fingers continued to explore my breasts and my ribs, pulling my dress up higher for access to my hips, and then he pulled away from me. I sagged from my wrists, gasping for air, feeling almost a loss... until I realised he had dropped to his knee, I flushed bright red as I realised he must be able to smell my scent, the betrayal of my arousal... I felt a hand tracing up the inside of my right leg, I couldn't help but whimper and my legs began to shake with the effort of remaining upright in this torture. I tried to squeeze my legs together to stop his access to my inner thighs and worse... but instead he slapped my thighs, and pulled them apart, spreading me wide so that i was truly open to his attentions. My cheeks burned with embarrassment as he explored my trembling legs, tracing the tops of my thigh high stockings with his fingers, as I attempted to pull away from him again. But I quickly felt a firm grip on my ankle, growing stronger still as i felt fingers burrowing into the back of my knee. I yelped as my leg gave way and I swayed, literally hanging from my wrists now.
"Pittore no!!!!!!!!" I was sobbing and twisting for all I was worth, but he carried on as I thrashed, the muscles in my upper body screaming as I hung from my shackles. He tickled and teased every inch of my nylon clad thighs and knees, every touch now, making my body twitch and spasm. Panting, the tears flowed freely down my cheeks, my mascara would be ruined for sure... but that was the last of my worries. He said this was the start of things to come.
He was just getting started
He stood up in front of me.
"Interesting, interesting..." he ran a finger over his lips, apparently deep in thought... "Yes, that's going to have to come off... and that... but those and those can stay. Well, for a short while anyway..." and he waved his hand toward me.
What could come off? Oh no... no... what was I thinking? Of course, what else could he mean? The barriers of safety, the clothes, my clothes... that could only be what he meant...
Stepping close to me once more, he tipped his head to the side, and then started to unbutton my dress. Starting at the top, he revealed my lacy bra, button... by... button... so painstakingly slowly...
"Oh little one... what lovely, sensitive flesh you have for me to play with... ooh... what's that... this deep red flush across your chest... are you wet for your Pittore? Do you like my hands on you? Do you want more? Oh... look... your nipples are hard... but you protested so much... tsk tsk... you protested and struggled but... you*liked*it... such a little slut aren't you... oh yes... i'm going to enjoy you a great deal..."
And with that, the last button of my dress was undone... and clearly... so was I.
