InkQuillWrites
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- Apr 23, 2023
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Quiet Night In
Emily was going to have the place to herself tonight, for once, and intended to make the most of it. Tonight was her night to indulge her fantasies.
She got on well with her roommate, she really did, but the two of them were sharing a very small apartment and Elizabeth could be, well, intimidating sometimes. She didn’t mean to, but she was everything Emily wasn’t - confident, outgoing, tall and something of a force of nature. Emily was curled up on the sofa, tired after work, in jeans and a t-shirt. She was trying to mindless scroll on her phone to kill time, but was being constantly interrupted by Elizabeth as she got ready for her date.
“What do you think? Red or green?” she asked, standing tall and unashamed in the middle of their flat in just a push-up bra, black panties and sheer nylons as she alternately held two stunning dresses to her perfect body.
“Uh ….” Emily stammered, blushing from her own embarrassment and Elizabeth’s lack of it “Both are good.”
“Good?” Elizabeth asked with a small frown of irritation.
“I mean, you’d look amazing in both,” Emily said, suppressing a tinge of jealousy. “You know that.” She took a breath, and a moment for the jealousy to pass, before helping her friend “but the red one is fantastic. You’ll knock him dead!”
“Aw, you think so? Thank you!” Elizabeth said with a genuine smile, before dashing back into the bathroom to finish her preparations.
Emily had to wait another hour to be alone, frustratingly interrupted every few minutes as Elizabeth wanted her opinion on hair, makeup, jewellery and shoes. But finally, Elizabeth was ready and, looking stunning, rushed out to her date. Emily sat, slightly dazed from the bustle, and for some reason her mind kept going idly back to the memory her half-dressed roommate.
But she pushed aside those thoughts quickly, for tonight, for once, was going to be about her and not Elizabeth. Finally she had some quiet time to be alone with her secrets and desires – and her deepest, darkest secret was her tickle fetish. She longed, ached on a primal level to be tied up and tickled without mercy, without relief until all that she was, all her thoughts and hopes and dreams were washed away by a stream of all-consuming laughter. But her desperate longing was buried deep beneath layers of shame and embarrassment that prevented her sharing or indulging her deepest self – except on the rare nights alone like tonight.
She started the night with a long, hot shower, lathering herself up and enjoying the feeling of foamy soap, rough sponge and hot water on her soft skin. Towelling herself dry with a warm, fluffy towel, she changed into a set of soft, loose comfortable flannel pyjamas, wiggling her toes with excitement as she looked down at her small, bare feet sticking out vulnerably.
Moving the coffee table aside, she set up her fantasy space on the fluffy rug in front of the sofa. First her laptop went on the floor at one end of the rug. Next she went into her room and got the secret duffel bag she hid at the back of her wardrobe. First out of the bag was her box of tools. She sat cross-legged on the rug as she reverentially handled each tool – feather duster, make-up brush, electric toothbrush, comb, hairbrush – dragging each teasingly along the soft soles of her feet, longing for someone else’s evil hands to be controlling them, as she lay them carefully in a neat line beside the rug.
Next out of the bag were several lengths of rope, and she ran them through her hands one by one to enjoy the drag against her skin. A pair of leather cuffs and a metal carabiner were next out, and then the most crucial component of tonight’s escapade, a time-release padlock.
With the help of a full-length mirror in her bedroom she wove a couple of longer pieces of rope into an intricate harness around her chest, running and cinching the rope around her back and over her shoulders and down between her breasts. Tying the harness off behind her own back was challenging, but this wasn’t her first time and her practised hands managed it with a minimum of fuss. She posed and inspected her ropework in the mirror, admiring how the tie pulled in her loose pyjama top to emphasise her breasts and blushing slightly at her own boldness – she normally wore loose, baggy tops that disguised her generous figure rather than emphasising it.
Next she went back to the rug, and sitting down tied her ankles together with another piece of rope, attaching a long tail to the tie and the carabiner to the end of this long tail. The leather cuffs went on her wrist, her pulse racing as she buckled them tight.
She set an hour on the time-release padlock and got into her final position, lying on her front. On her laptop she selected her carefully curated playlist of her favourite tickle videos, put in her earphones and hit play. She had a couple of minutes empty time to finally lock together her self-bondage fantasy before the show started. Looping the tail attached to her ankles through the chest harness, around her ankles and round towards her back again, she pulled her feet up into a comfortable hogtie and clipped the carabiner at the end of the rope into the chest harness. Finally, she reached behind her back and slipped the shackle of the padlock through the rings on her wrist cuffs and with a satisfying click started the timer on her hour of immobility.
As the first of her favourite videos started playing, her body tingled and squirmed as she visualised and ached for the various torments to be inflicted on her instead, bare toes wiggling in sympathy as she watched feathers or combs dragged between them, soles scrunching as she watched hairbrushes scrubbing, arms trying to protect ribs and armpits from imaginary grasping fingers. She was in her perfect, fantasy hell, flushed pink with rising arousal, when suddenly...
“Fucking bastard stood me up.” The door swung open and Elizabeth stalked through in a foul mood. “Had to work late, or so he … what the fuck?” Emily looked up, stunned, eyes wide, as her roommate towered over her in shock, for once lost for words.
“What the fuck? Are you OK? Who did this to you?” Elizabeth rattled off in rapid fire “Is it safe?” she asked, looking round the apartment with rising concern.
Emily was still stunned, turning deepest red as her perfect, safe fantasy hell turned into a nightmare that was all too real.
“Who did this to you?” Elizabeth asked again, pulling out Emily’s earphones. “Are you OK? Who did this?”
“No… no …” Emily stammered. “It’s OK. It’s OK. Nobody did this to me.”
“What do you mean? Who did … “ Elizabeth trailed off as the penny dropped. “You did this to yourself?”
Emily didn’t respond, just squirmed uncomfortably and turned an even deeper shade of red as she longed for the ground to open up and swallow her up.
“You did this to yourself, didn’t you”.
Emily nodded in shame, eyes cast down and fixed on Elizabeth’s shoes.
“I had no idea …” Elizabeth said, surprise mixing with a slight note of admiration in her voice. “Wait, what are you watching?”
Just when she thought it couldn’t get worse, Emily’s stomach dropped to a deeper circle of hell.
“Is she being tickled?”
Maybe she wouldn’t put it all together, Emily desperately hoped.
“So, what, you want to be tied up and have the shit tickled out of you? Is that a kink thing? It has to be a kink thing, right? Wow. I mean, good for you, but wow.” She flicked a nail down Emily’s upturned sole, toe to heel, and Emily flinched. “I had no idea. You never can trust the quiet ones, I guess.”
Emily burned with shame, unable to lift her eyes up from a patch on the floor by Elizabeth’s shoes.
“You know, I used to be a bit of a tickle monster when I was younger. The neighbours had a couple of kids and I got them good a few times growing up.” A predatory grin crossed Elizabeth’s face. “Maybe I’ve found my entertainment for this evening.”
“Your choice. I could untie you now, forget this every happened and we never speak of it again. Or ... I could have some fun spending the evening tickling the shit out of you.”
So many conflicted feelings raced through Emily’s mind. This was all happening way, way too fast. She wanted it – really, really wanted it – but shame and embarrassment gummed up her mouth, leaving her lost for words.
“Your choice,” Elizabeth said, a more serious note cutting through her amusement. “If you don’t want this, I can let you go.”
“No.”
“So you do want it?”
…
“If you want it, you’ve got to say.”
“… yes.” Emily finally managed, in a small voice.
“Yes to what?”
“Yes, you can … you know,” Emily mumbled, eyes still cast down
“You need to want it.”
“I want you to … you know.”
“You need to say it,” Elizabeth said, bending down and leaning in closer. “If you want it, you need to say it.”
“Fine, OK, I want you to tickle me,” Emily blurted out, finally looking up from the floor, up past Elizabeth’s stunning red dress, craning her neck up to look her in the eyes. “I want you to tickle me all evening until I can’t take it any more. I want you to tickle me”. As she said those words out loud for the first time in her life, Emily felt a huge sense of relief wash over her. The oppressive weight of her shame that had beep crushing her hogtied body deep into the rug lifted, leaving her feeling light and free. Her catharsis was short lived, however, as Elizabeth immediately dug her fingers into her sides and started squeezing. Emily’s skillful ropework held and she realised just how vulnerable she had made herself, as all she could do was kick her feet back and forwards a few inches in an attempt to distract herself from the sensations. Elizabeth held the intensity high for several long, long seconds before giving Emily a rest.
“Huh, you really are ticklish. This is going to be fun,” she said walking away to the kitchen. Emily lay nervously, panting slightly. In front of her her laptop still played on silently, building her anticipation as she watched one of her favourite lees throw back her head and laugh soundlessly as fingers assaulted her bare armpits. Her heightened senses heard a glass clinking and a bottle pouring before Elizabeth walked back into her vision with a glass of wine in her hand and a predatory smile on her face. Emily’s nerves rose as her roommate kicked off her shoes, sat down behind her and got comfortable. Her long legs stretched either side of Emily’s prone form, nylon-clad toes just peeking into the corners of Emily’s vision and freshly manicured nails poised above Emily’s bare, upturned soles.
Starting slow, Emily squirmed as Elizabeth traced a single nail down one arch, round both heels in a figure eight and up the other arch. “What’s the matter?” Elizabeth taunted as Emily’s feet wiggled away from the finger slowly being dragged over her soles. Punctuating each word with a quick flick of her nail up or down Emily’s arch, she teased
“Is?”
Flick.
“Little?”
Flick.
“Emily?”
Flick.
“Ticklish?”
Emily gasped, almost more from hearing the word from her roommate than the light tickles her feet were getting.
“Does?”
Flick.
“She?”
Flick.
“Have?”
Flick
“Ticklish?”
Flick
“Feet?”
Elizabeth leaned in, wrapping one arm tightly around Emily’s ankles and pulling her legs close in to Elizabeth’s body. “’Cause this is going to suck,” Elizabeth said as she dove in with her free hand, scrabbling her fingers wildly over Emily’s trapped soles. Emily burst out laughing and bucked up and down on the rug, but Elizabeth had a firm hold on her ankles and her fingers danced nimbly as Emily’s feet thrashed around vainly. If she pulled away, Elizabeth’s fingers would follow. If she covered one sole with the other then Elizabeth’s fingers would jump to the other, constantly finding fresh, defenceless, unprotected skin. She varied the areas she focused on, exploring heel to toes, arches and balls, maintaining a frenzied pace as she let out her frustration over her ruined date. As Emily tired, Elizabeth slowly let up and went back to slowly tracing a single nail slowly around Emily’s soles. “You know, this is fun,” Elizabeth said. “I’m having a blast!”
“I’m glad,” Emily said sarcastically as she lay panting. “You’re good at this.”
“Like I said, I got a lot of practice growing up,” Elizabeth said. “Now, are you ticklish anywhere else?”
“No …” Emily lied hesitantly.
“Are you sure?” Elizabeth said, shifting forwards and sitting so she straddled Emily’s back, legs pinning her arms down.
“Yes …” Emily lied again.
“In that case, you won’t mind if I do this, then.” Elizabeth said as she carefully manoeuvred her long fingers deep into Emily’s armpits. Emily’s arms instinctively clamped tight to her sides, accidentally trapping Elizabeth’s fingers in her sensitive hollows, but Elizabeth didn’t strike just yet.
“Is something wrong, Emily?” Elizabeth asked with mock concern.
“Hnnng,” was all her overloaded brain could manage.
“You don’t mind my hands here, do you?” Elizabeth asked. “Because you’re not ticklish anywhere else, right? You didn’t lie, did you?”
“no,” Emily said in a very small voice.
“Are you sure?”
Emily paused
“You can tell me.”
“I’m ticklish,” Emily murmured into the rug
“What was that, Emily?”
“I’m ticklish,” she said, louder this time. “I’m ticklish under my arms.”
“Good girl,” Elizabeth said warmly, lighting up something primal in Emily. “Thank you for telling me. But … does that mean you lied earlier?”
Emily paused.
“Did you lie to me earlier, Emily?”
“yes”
“Do you know what happens to liars, Emily?”
Elizabeth paused, then suddenly struck, digging her fingers into Emily’s trapped pits. Emily howled and thrashed, kicking her feet back and forth, but was unable to buck off Elizabeth and the way her arms clamped reflexively to her sides merely kept Elizabeth’s probing fingers locked in place.
“Are you sorry for lying, Emily?”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Elizabeth” she begged between howls of laughter
Elizabeth paused briefly. “I don’t believe you,” she said and dug in again, harder than before.
“I’m sorry! Please! Please!! I’m sorry I lied!” Emily implored as she thrashed helplessly beneath Elizabeth’s fingers, delighting in her punishment until Elizabeth finally let up.
“Having fun?” Elizabeth asked, stroking Emily’s hair softly as she gasped for breath.
Emily had only the slightest pause of embarrassment before she confessed “Yes.”
“So, what, this is turning you on?”
Emily paused a bit longer, but couldn’t deny her flushed arousal and increasing wetness as she was unexpectedly dominated by her stunning roommate, still dressed to impress her flaky date “Yes.”
“Weirdo,” teased Elizabeth fondly. “Had enough?”
Another slight pause, then “No.”
“OK then, tickle glutton.” Elizabeth got up and took a drink of her wine, then bent down and held the glass, half full of deep red wine, in front of Emily’s face.
“See this wine, Emily?”
She nodded.
“Don’t spill a drop.”
Elizabeth walked round behind Emily and carefully placed the cold stem of the wineglass between Emily’s big toe and second toe on her left foot, resting the bowl of the glass on her toes and the sole of her foot. “Oh no” Emily said, half to herself, as she looked down at the pale rug she was lying on.
“Got it?”
“No, Elizabeth, come on.”
“Got it?”
“… Yes.”
Elizabeth gently grabbed the big toe of the other foot between forefinger and thumb and pulled it away from the foot holding the wineglass, giving her an isolated canvas to work on. With her other hand she traced a fingernail slowly along the arch and watched intently as Emily’s toes twitched. Tracing it slowly back up she saw Emily tense up and clench her jaw as she tried to keep her toes still through sheer willpower.
“Does ticklish little Emily need to squirm away from my nails? Does she need to wiggle these cute little feet?” Elizabeth teased. She alternated between playing with the toes on Emily’s free right foot, wiggling them back and forth, and using her nails to trace slow, lazy shapes on the upturned sole, teasing Emily in a sing-song voice for long minutes. “Tickle, tickle! Doesn’t it make you want to squirm, Emily? Are you ticklish here, Emily? How about here, Emily?”
Eventually, Elizabeth let Emily’s right foot go, and she immediately used the freedom to scrunch her toes and wiggle that foot back and forth to get rid of the pent-up sensations, carefully keeping the other foot, holding the wineglass, still.
“Is this little foot feeling left out?” Elizabeth teased as the started to trace slow circles on the heel of Emily’s left foot.
“No! No, Elizabeth, please!” Emily begged, but Elizabeth was relentless as she walked two fingers slowly up Emily’s sole towards the wine glass with teasing, dragging steps.
“Does she need to kick and scream?” Elizabeth asked as she reached the centre of Emily’s sole and stayed there, two fingers slowly scratching back and forth. Emily’s fingers spasmed back and forth and she thrashed her arms repeatedly against the back of her thighs. The wineglass jerked back and forth as her toes flinched involuntarily, the wine sloshing around the bottom of the bowl of the glass but not spilling.
“Is she ticklish under here?” Elizabeth dragged out the last word as she reached her other hand underneath Emily’s upturned left foot and dragged her nails quickly along the top of her foot, up towards the toes. Emily squeaked in surprise and involuntarily spread her toes, and Elizabeth swept past to smoothly catch the stem of the glass just before it fell, victoriously lifting it to her lips.
She looked away from the soles which had been her intense focus for the last minutes up past Emily’s flushed, dishevelled head to the laptop still set up in front of Emily, still playing her playlist of favourite tickling videos. “Wait, what’s going on there? Is that a toothbrush?”
Emily’s stomach sank as she saw one of her favourite lees thrashing desperately in stocks as an electric toothbrush was methodically applied to her toes. “Are these your tickle tools?” Elizabeth asked, gesturing to the carefully arranged set of instruments Emily had laid out earlier. “Because, you see, Emily, you were so careless with my wine.”
“No, please Elizabeth.”
“You could have spilled it everywhere,” Elizabeth said, picking up the toothbrush and sitting down once more behind Emily’s feet and stretching out her long legs.
“I didn’t spill a drop, Elizabeth. You caught it. I didn’t spill a drop.”
“You were very careless, Emily. The fact I caught it is merely a technicality,” Elizabeth said, stroking one nylon-clad gently foot along Emily’s cheek. “And I don’t like it when you try to rely on technicalities. You need to take responsibility for your mistakes.”
Pause.
“Don’t you, Emily.”
“Yes, Elizabeth.”
“What did you do?”
“I dropped it.”
“And what does that mean?”
“It means I get tickled again. With the toothbrush. It means I get tickled with the toothbrush on my feet.” Emily said, fear mixing with disbelief and arousal as her deepest fantasies were acted out by her roommate.
“Good girl,” Elizabeth said again before took a firm grip of Emily’s toes with one hand. She flicked the toothbrush on, and Emily flinched just at the sound of it’s electric buzzing. When Elizabeth placed the toothbrush between Emily’s toes she went ballistic, laughing and thrashing as Elizabeth methodically doled out her punishment, moving from toe to toe to keep Emily from getting used to the sensation. Emily’s laughter went up a notch as Elizabeth dug her toes into her sides and armpits, providing a counterpoint to the extended electric brushing of her toes. Emily’s torment stretched out and was on the point of becoming unbearable, when, with a sudden click, she felt her hands come free. She tapped out on the rug “Red! Red! Mayday! Stop!”
Elizabeth let up with a look of concern at the sweaty, dishevelled mess she had reduced her roommate to. “Are you OK?” she asked, worried.
“I’m OK,” Emily panted. “That was. A lot.”
“Had enough?”
“Yes.”
“Too much?”
“Enough.”
“How do I get you out?”
“Unclip the thing on my back,” Emily said, pointing to the carabiner. Elizabeth unclipped it, then unwrapped the loose end of the rope from around Emily’s ankles and pulled it through the chest harness as Emily used her new freedom to stretch out her thighs. Twisting round into a sitting position on the floor, Emily pulled her legs up in front of her and started to untie the rope from around her ankles. Elizabeth came back over, slightly sheepish, handed a glass of water to Emily and sat down on the sofa.
“I’m sorry. I … uh … got carried away a bit.”
“No, it’s OK” Emily said with a blissful, faraway smile. “I enjoyed it.”
“Come up here,” Elizabeth said, half-lifting Emily up onto the sofa in front of her and wrapping her long arms around her. “Are you sure?” she said, idly stroking Emily’s hair.
“Yes.” Emily said peacefully, resting her head on Elizabeth’s chest.
“I mean … I don’t know. I feel bad. I’ve done that to a couple of guys before – not with the tickling, but the general …” she shrugged “but I don’t know. Not to sweet, kind, little Emily.”
“I enjoyed it. I’ve always wanted it and it was everything I wanted. Did you have fun?”
Elizabeth paused. “Yes.”
Emily tipped her head back and looked up into Elizabeth’s eyes. “Can we do it again some time?”
Emily was going to have the place to herself tonight, for once, and intended to make the most of it. Tonight was her night to indulge her fantasies.
She got on well with her roommate, she really did, but the two of them were sharing a very small apartment and Elizabeth could be, well, intimidating sometimes. She didn’t mean to, but she was everything Emily wasn’t - confident, outgoing, tall and something of a force of nature. Emily was curled up on the sofa, tired after work, in jeans and a t-shirt. She was trying to mindless scroll on her phone to kill time, but was being constantly interrupted by Elizabeth as she got ready for her date.
“What do you think? Red or green?” she asked, standing tall and unashamed in the middle of their flat in just a push-up bra, black panties and sheer nylons as she alternately held two stunning dresses to her perfect body.
“Uh ….” Emily stammered, blushing from her own embarrassment and Elizabeth’s lack of it “Both are good.”
“Good?” Elizabeth asked with a small frown of irritation.
“I mean, you’d look amazing in both,” Emily said, suppressing a tinge of jealousy. “You know that.” She took a breath, and a moment for the jealousy to pass, before helping her friend “but the red one is fantastic. You’ll knock him dead!”
“Aw, you think so? Thank you!” Elizabeth said with a genuine smile, before dashing back into the bathroom to finish her preparations.
Emily had to wait another hour to be alone, frustratingly interrupted every few minutes as Elizabeth wanted her opinion on hair, makeup, jewellery and shoes. But finally, Elizabeth was ready and, looking stunning, rushed out to her date. Emily sat, slightly dazed from the bustle, and for some reason her mind kept going idly back to the memory her half-dressed roommate.
But she pushed aside those thoughts quickly, for tonight, for once, was going to be about her and not Elizabeth. Finally she had some quiet time to be alone with her secrets and desires – and her deepest, darkest secret was her tickle fetish. She longed, ached on a primal level to be tied up and tickled without mercy, without relief until all that she was, all her thoughts and hopes and dreams were washed away by a stream of all-consuming laughter. But her desperate longing was buried deep beneath layers of shame and embarrassment that prevented her sharing or indulging her deepest self – except on the rare nights alone like tonight.
She started the night with a long, hot shower, lathering herself up and enjoying the feeling of foamy soap, rough sponge and hot water on her soft skin. Towelling herself dry with a warm, fluffy towel, she changed into a set of soft, loose comfortable flannel pyjamas, wiggling her toes with excitement as she looked down at her small, bare feet sticking out vulnerably.
Moving the coffee table aside, she set up her fantasy space on the fluffy rug in front of the sofa. First her laptop went on the floor at one end of the rug. Next she went into her room and got the secret duffel bag she hid at the back of her wardrobe. First out of the bag was her box of tools. She sat cross-legged on the rug as she reverentially handled each tool – feather duster, make-up brush, electric toothbrush, comb, hairbrush – dragging each teasingly along the soft soles of her feet, longing for someone else’s evil hands to be controlling them, as she lay them carefully in a neat line beside the rug.
Next out of the bag were several lengths of rope, and she ran them through her hands one by one to enjoy the drag against her skin. A pair of leather cuffs and a metal carabiner were next out, and then the most crucial component of tonight’s escapade, a time-release padlock.
With the help of a full-length mirror in her bedroom she wove a couple of longer pieces of rope into an intricate harness around her chest, running and cinching the rope around her back and over her shoulders and down between her breasts. Tying the harness off behind her own back was challenging, but this wasn’t her first time and her practised hands managed it with a minimum of fuss. She posed and inspected her ropework in the mirror, admiring how the tie pulled in her loose pyjama top to emphasise her breasts and blushing slightly at her own boldness – she normally wore loose, baggy tops that disguised her generous figure rather than emphasising it.
Next she went back to the rug, and sitting down tied her ankles together with another piece of rope, attaching a long tail to the tie and the carabiner to the end of this long tail. The leather cuffs went on her wrist, her pulse racing as she buckled them tight.
She set an hour on the time-release padlock and got into her final position, lying on her front. On her laptop she selected her carefully curated playlist of her favourite tickle videos, put in her earphones and hit play. She had a couple of minutes empty time to finally lock together her self-bondage fantasy before the show started. Looping the tail attached to her ankles through the chest harness, around her ankles and round towards her back again, she pulled her feet up into a comfortable hogtie and clipped the carabiner at the end of the rope into the chest harness. Finally, she reached behind her back and slipped the shackle of the padlock through the rings on her wrist cuffs and with a satisfying click started the timer on her hour of immobility.
As the first of her favourite videos started playing, her body tingled and squirmed as she visualised and ached for the various torments to be inflicted on her instead, bare toes wiggling in sympathy as she watched feathers or combs dragged between them, soles scrunching as she watched hairbrushes scrubbing, arms trying to protect ribs and armpits from imaginary grasping fingers. She was in her perfect, fantasy hell, flushed pink with rising arousal, when suddenly...
“Fucking bastard stood me up.” The door swung open and Elizabeth stalked through in a foul mood. “Had to work late, or so he … what the fuck?” Emily looked up, stunned, eyes wide, as her roommate towered over her in shock, for once lost for words.
“What the fuck? Are you OK? Who did this to you?” Elizabeth rattled off in rapid fire “Is it safe?” she asked, looking round the apartment with rising concern.
Emily was still stunned, turning deepest red as her perfect, safe fantasy hell turned into a nightmare that was all too real.
“Who did this to you?” Elizabeth asked again, pulling out Emily’s earphones. “Are you OK? Who did this?”
“No… no …” Emily stammered. “It’s OK. It’s OK. Nobody did this to me.”
“What do you mean? Who did … “ Elizabeth trailed off as the penny dropped. “You did this to yourself?”
Emily didn’t respond, just squirmed uncomfortably and turned an even deeper shade of red as she longed for the ground to open up and swallow her up.
“You did this to yourself, didn’t you”.
Emily nodded in shame, eyes cast down and fixed on Elizabeth’s shoes.
“I had no idea …” Elizabeth said, surprise mixing with a slight note of admiration in her voice. “Wait, what are you watching?”
Just when she thought it couldn’t get worse, Emily’s stomach dropped to a deeper circle of hell.
“Is she being tickled?”
Maybe she wouldn’t put it all together, Emily desperately hoped.
“So, what, you want to be tied up and have the shit tickled out of you? Is that a kink thing? It has to be a kink thing, right? Wow. I mean, good for you, but wow.” She flicked a nail down Emily’s upturned sole, toe to heel, and Emily flinched. “I had no idea. You never can trust the quiet ones, I guess.”
Emily burned with shame, unable to lift her eyes up from a patch on the floor by Elizabeth’s shoes.
“You know, I used to be a bit of a tickle monster when I was younger. The neighbours had a couple of kids and I got them good a few times growing up.” A predatory grin crossed Elizabeth’s face. “Maybe I’ve found my entertainment for this evening.”
“Your choice. I could untie you now, forget this every happened and we never speak of it again. Or ... I could have some fun spending the evening tickling the shit out of you.”
So many conflicted feelings raced through Emily’s mind. This was all happening way, way too fast. She wanted it – really, really wanted it – but shame and embarrassment gummed up her mouth, leaving her lost for words.
“Your choice,” Elizabeth said, a more serious note cutting through her amusement. “If you don’t want this, I can let you go.”
“No.”
“So you do want it?”
…
“If you want it, you’ve got to say.”
“… yes.” Emily finally managed, in a small voice.
“Yes to what?”
“Yes, you can … you know,” Emily mumbled, eyes still cast down
“You need to want it.”
“I want you to … you know.”
“You need to say it,” Elizabeth said, bending down and leaning in closer. “If you want it, you need to say it.”
“Fine, OK, I want you to tickle me,” Emily blurted out, finally looking up from the floor, up past Elizabeth’s stunning red dress, craning her neck up to look her in the eyes. “I want you to tickle me all evening until I can’t take it any more. I want you to tickle me”. As she said those words out loud for the first time in her life, Emily felt a huge sense of relief wash over her. The oppressive weight of her shame that had beep crushing her hogtied body deep into the rug lifted, leaving her feeling light and free. Her catharsis was short lived, however, as Elizabeth immediately dug her fingers into her sides and started squeezing. Emily’s skillful ropework held and she realised just how vulnerable she had made herself, as all she could do was kick her feet back and forwards a few inches in an attempt to distract herself from the sensations. Elizabeth held the intensity high for several long, long seconds before giving Emily a rest.
“Huh, you really are ticklish. This is going to be fun,” she said walking away to the kitchen. Emily lay nervously, panting slightly. In front of her her laptop still played on silently, building her anticipation as she watched one of her favourite lees throw back her head and laugh soundlessly as fingers assaulted her bare armpits. Her heightened senses heard a glass clinking and a bottle pouring before Elizabeth walked back into her vision with a glass of wine in her hand and a predatory smile on her face. Emily’s nerves rose as her roommate kicked off her shoes, sat down behind her and got comfortable. Her long legs stretched either side of Emily’s prone form, nylon-clad toes just peeking into the corners of Emily’s vision and freshly manicured nails poised above Emily’s bare, upturned soles.
Starting slow, Emily squirmed as Elizabeth traced a single nail down one arch, round both heels in a figure eight and up the other arch. “What’s the matter?” Elizabeth taunted as Emily’s feet wiggled away from the finger slowly being dragged over her soles. Punctuating each word with a quick flick of her nail up or down Emily’s arch, she teased
“Is?”
Flick.
“Little?”
Flick.
“Emily?”
Flick.
“Ticklish?”
Emily gasped, almost more from hearing the word from her roommate than the light tickles her feet were getting.
“Does?”
Flick.
“She?”
Flick.
“Have?”
Flick
“Ticklish?”
Flick
“Feet?”
Elizabeth leaned in, wrapping one arm tightly around Emily’s ankles and pulling her legs close in to Elizabeth’s body. “’Cause this is going to suck,” Elizabeth said as she dove in with her free hand, scrabbling her fingers wildly over Emily’s trapped soles. Emily burst out laughing and bucked up and down on the rug, but Elizabeth had a firm hold on her ankles and her fingers danced nimbly as Emily’s feet thrashed around vainly. If she pulled away, Elizabeth’s fingers would follow. If she covered one sole with the other then Elizabeth’s fingers would jump to the other, constantly finding fresh, defenceless, unprotected skin. She varied the areas she focused on, exploring heel to toes, arches and balls, maintaining a frenzied pace as she let out her frustration over her ruined date. As Emily tired, Elizabeth slowly let up and went back to slowly tracing a single nail slowly around Emily’s soles. “You know, this is fun,” Elizabeth said. “I’m having a blast!”
“I’m glad,” Emily said sarcastically as she lay panting. “You’re good at this.”
“Like I said, I got a lot of practice growing up,” Elizabeth said. “Now, are you ticklish anywhere else?”
“No …” Emily lied hesitantly.
“Are you sure?” Elizabeth said, shifting forwards and sitting so she straddled Emily’s back, legs pinning her arms down.
“Yes …” Emily lied again.
“In that case, you won’t mind if I do this, then.” Elizabeth said as she carefully manoeuvred her long fingers deep into Emily’s armpits. Emily’s arms instinctively clamped tight to her sides, accidentally trapping Elizabeth’s fingers in her sensitive hollows, but Elizabeth didn’t strike just yet.
“Is something wrong, Emily?” Elizabeth asked with mock concern.
“Hnnng,” was all her overloaded brain could manage.
“You don’t mind my hands here, do you?” Elizabeth asked. “Because you’re not ticklish anywhere else, right? You didn’t lie, did you?”
“no,” Emily said in a very small voice.
“Are you sure?”
Emily paused
“You can tell me.”
“I’m ticklish,” Emily murmured into the rug
“What was that, Emily?”
“I’m ticklish,” she said, louder this time. “I’m ticklish under my arms.”
“Good girl,” Elizabeth said warmly, lighting up something primal in Emily. “Thank you for telling me. But … does that mean you lied earlier?”
Emily paused.
“Did you lie to me earlier, Emily?”
“yes”
“Do you know what happens to liars, Emily?”
Elizabeth paused, then suddenly struck, digging her fingers into Emily’s trapped pits. Emily howled and thrashed, kicking her feet back and forth, but was unable to buck off Elizabeth and the way her arms clamped reflexively to her sides merely kept Elizabeth’s probing fingers locked in place.
“Are you sorry for lying, Emily?”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Elizabeth” she begged between howls of laughter
Elizabeth paused briefly. “I don’t believe you,” she said and dug in again, harder than before.
“I’m sorry! Please! Please!! I’m sorry I lied!” Emily implored as she thrashed helplessly beneath Elizabeth’s fingers, delighting in her punishment until Elizabeth finally let up.
“Having fun?” Elizabeth asked, stroking Emily’s hair softly as she gasped for breath.
Emily had only the slightest pause of embarrassment before she confessed “Yes.”
“So, what, this is turning you on?”
Emily paused a bit longer, but couldn’t deny her flushed arousal and increasing wetness as she was unexpectedly dominated by her stunning roommate, still dressed to impress her flaky date “Yes.”
“Weirdo,” teased Elizabeth fondly. “Had enough?”
Another slight pause, then “No.”
“OK then, tickle glutton.” Elizabeth got up and took a drink of her wine, then bent down and held the glass, half full of deep red wine, in front of Emily’s face.
“See this wine, Emily?”
She nodded.
“Don’t spill a drop.”
Elizabeth walked round behind Emily and carefully placed the cold stem of the wineglass between Emily’s big toe and second toe on her left foot, resting the bowl of the glass on her toes and the sole of her foot. “Oh no” Emily said, half to herself, as she looked down at the pale rug she was lying on.
“Got it?”
“No, Elizabeth, come on.”
“Got it?”
“… Yes.”
Elizabeth gently grabbed the big toe of the other foot between forefinger and thumb and pulled it away from the foot holding the wineglass, giving her an isolated canvas to work on. With her other hand she traced a fingernail slowly along the arch and watched intently as Emily’s toes twitched. Tracing it slowly back up she saw Emily tense up and clench her jaw as she tried to keep her toes still through sheer willpower.
“Does ticklish little Emily need to squirm away from my nails? Does she need to wiggle these cute little feet?” Elizabeth teased. She alternated between playing with the toes on Emily’s free right foot, wiggling them back and forth, and using her nails to trace slow, lazy shapes on the upturned sole, teasing Emily in a sing-song voice for long minutes. “Tickle, tickle! Doesn’t it make you want to squirm, Emily? Are you ticklish here, Emily? How about here, Emily?”
Eventually, Elizabeth let Emily’s right foot go, and she immediately used the freedom to scrunch her toes and wiggle that foot back and forth to get rid of the pent-up sensations, carefully keeping the other foot, holding the wineglass, still.
“Is this little foot feeling left out?” Elizabeth teased as the started to trace slow circles on the heel of Emily’s left foot.
“No! No, Elizabeth, please!” Emily begged, but Elizabeth was relentless as she walked two fingers slowly up Emily’s sole towards the wine glass with teasing, dragging steps.
“Does she need to kick and scream?” Elizabeth asked as she reached the centre of Emily’s sole and stayed there, two fingers slowly scratching back and forth. Emily’s fingers spasmed back and forth and she thrashed her arms repeatedly against the back of her thighs. The wineglass jerked back and forth as her toes flinched involuntarily, the wine sloshing around the bottom of the bowl of the glass but not spilling.
“Is she ticklish under here?” Elizabeth dragged out the last word as she reached her other hand underneath Emily’s upturned left foot and dragged her nails quickly along the top of her foot, up towards the toes. Emily squeaked in surprise and involuntarily spread her toes, and Elizabeth swept past to smoothly catch the stem of the glass just before it fell, victoriously lifting it to her lips.
She looked away from the soles which had been her intense focus for the last minutes up past Emily’s flushed, dishevelled head to the laptop still set up in front of Emily, still playing her playlist of favourite tickling videos. “Wait, what’s going on there? Is that a toothbrush?”
Emily’s stomach sank as she saw one of her favourite lees thrashing desperately in stocks as an electric toothbrush was methodically applied to her toes. “Are these your tickle tools?” Elizabeth asked, gesturing to the carefully arranged set of instruments Emily had laid out earlier. “Because, you see, Emily, you were so careless with my wine.”
“No, please Elizabeth.”
“You could have spilled it everywhere,” Elizabeth said, picking up the toothbrush and sitting down once more behind Emily’s feet and stretching out her long legs.
“I didn’t spill a drop, Elizabeth. You caught it. I didn’t spill a drop.”
“You were very careless, Emily. The fact I caught it is merely a technicality,” Elizabeth said, stroking one nylon-clad gently foot along Emily’s cheek. “And I don’t like it when you try to rely on technicalities. You need to take responsibility for your mistakes.”
Pause.
“Don’t you, Emily.”
“Yes, Elizabeth.”
“What did you do?”
“I dropped it.”
“And what does that mean?”
“It means I get tickled again. With the toothbrush. It means I get tickled with the toothbrush on my feet.” Emily said, fear mixing with disbelief and arousal as her deepest fantasies were acted out by her roommate.
“Good girl,” Elizabeth said again before took a firm grip of Emily’s toes with one hand. She flicked the toothbrush on, and Emily flinched just at the sound of it’s electric buzzing. When Elizabeth placed the toothbrush between Emily’s toes she went ballistic, laughing and thrashing as Elizabeth methodically doled out her punishment, moving from toe to toe to keep Emily from getting used to the sensation. Emily’s laughter went up a notch as Elizabeth dug her toes into her sides and armpits, providing a counterpoint to the extended electric brushing of her toes. Emily’s torment stretched out and was on the point of becoming unbearable, when, with a sudden click, she felt her hands come free. She tapped out on the rug “Red! Red! Mayday! Stop!”
Elizabeth let up with a look of concern at the sweaty, dishevelled mess she had reduced her roommate to. “Are you OK?” she asked, worried.
“I’m OK,” Emily panted. “That was. A lot.”
“Had enough?”
“Yes.”
“Too much?”
“Enough.”
“How do I get you out?”
“Unclip the thing on my back,” Emily said, pointing to the carabiner. Elizabeth unclipped it, then unwrapped the loose end of the rope from around Emily’s ankles and pulled it through the chest harness as Emily used her new freedom to stretch out her thighs. Twisting round into a sitting position on the floor, Emily pulled her legs up in front of her and started to untie the rope from around her ankles. Elizabeth came back over, slightly sheepish, handed a glass of water to Emily and sat down on the sofa.
“I’m sorry. I … uh … got carried away a bit.”
“No, it’s OK” Emily said with a blissful, faraway smile. “I enjoyed it.”
“Come up here,” Elizabeth said, half-lifting Emily up onto the sofa in front of her and wrapping her long arms around her. “Are you sure?” she said, idly stroking Emily’s hair.
“Yes.” Emily said peacefully, resting her head on Elizabeth’s chest.
“I mean … I don’t know. I feel bad. I’ve done that to a couple of guys before – not with the tickling, but the general …” she shrugged “but I don’t know. Not to sweet, kind, little Emily.”
“I enjoyed it. I’ve always wanted it and it was everything I wanted. Did you have fun?”
Elizabeth paused. “Yes.”
Emily tipped her head back and looked up into Elizabeth’s eyes. “Can we do it again some time?”
