shapeshifter
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- Jan 20, 2023
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Part III will be the X-rated section, but I wanted to put this out there. Hopefully it's like a good movie trailer!
“I…Rachel…”
“Come on, Mr. Nichols. You never have to see me again. Or this can be the first day of our lives together. A nice, attractive single English professor with his doting grad school girlfriend… It sounds like the plot of a Victorian novel.”
She stood up and pressed him against the desk. When he didn’t resist, she grabbed his arms and yanked his body upward until there was enough clearance to mount him on the surface of the desk. He violently swatted at the papers and books on it to the floor until it was clear as she wrestled him into position on his back. She first wound the tie into a slip knot, slid it around his wrist and secured it to part of the frame inside the top drawer. She wound his shirt into a nice cord and was able to pull his arm high above his head and tie it to the bottom of the frame.
“Careful,” he said. “You’ll pull my arm out of the socket.”
She tapped him on the nose and smiled. “I’ll be gentle.”
Securing his ankles proved to be a bigger challenge. Tying them together was simple enough, but there was no way to secure it to the desk. She scanned the room in vain until striking gold: the extension cord. Who knew why he needed what seemed like maybe a ten-footer, but who cared? It was more than enough to wind around one of the desk legs while further immobilizing his poor ankles.
After convinced that he was properly in place, she hovered over him, studying his body like a medical examiner. It was bit more muscular than she expected, though it was hard to tell just how muscular due to the modest layer of middle-age flab. Though he had only a small patch of chest hair, his legs had the luscious locks of short, curly hairs that gave her goosebumps when she watched sweaty guys playing basketball or throwing a Frisbee in the summer sun. And just like a medical examiner checking for possible muscle or bone damage, she poked and prodded at the flesh just under his ribcage. Unlike a dead body, though, he fidgeted and percolated like uncooked popcorn on its second minute in the microwave.
“Rachel!” he said and let out a short giggle.
“Tickles, huh?” Her hands slid down to his waist, which she poked at with her index fingers like little pistons. He pulled hard at his wrists and bucked up and down, shoulder blades pounding on the desk
.
“What about there?”
“Yes!!! What are you doing?”
“Just warming you up.”
“For what?”
She smirked and slowly crept her fingers up his ribcage like toy soldiers on the march until they reached the soft tissue between his nipples and armpits. There the soldiers marched in place, watching him squirm and bite on his lip for a short moment before letting out a steady stream of giggles.
“RRaaa…stop!!!...HAHAHA…Come…HAHA…What are you doing?”
Her smile widened and she cocked her head, staring directly into his eyes.
“Forward, march!!!” Her fingers scurried into the recesses of his armpits and danced around, causing him to thrash so hard the desk shook.
“WHYYYYY???...HAHAHAHAHA…STOP!!! HAHAHAHA…I DIDN’T…HAHAHAHA THINK!!!”
“Why would you? There aren’t many girls who would tie their professors to a table only to tickle them. Then again, I’m not like many girls, and it gets me really hot. Which is probably while I’m so good. Do you think I’m good?”
He shook and laughed and thrashed and yanked on his wrists and ankles, desperately trying to free them. Everything but answer her question.
“See, I know I am. It’s a curious little talent I have. I made a guy beg for me to stick a pipe cleaner in his asshole once. Of course, I didn’t do it, but watching him scream laughter while trying to get those words out was so fucking hot. I made him forget all about it afterwards, which is probably what I’ll do for you. If I feel like it, I guess.”
She relented and hovered above him while he gasped for air after the unexpected laughing fit.
“I don’t understand, Rachel. I thought we were getting along well.”
She peered through the window for a moment, considering this. He was more amiable in person, which is generally the case, she thought. It made her feel warm inside. Pleasant surprises can lift your spirits at the most unexpected moments. Tickling and cock teasing the unholy hell out of people you have some affinity for was different from just torturing a total prick. You didn’t get someone like that in your clutches very often, thank goodness. It was satisfying to make them lose their shit, but less interesting. No play at all, just torture.
This was exceeding her expectations, though she wasn’t yet sure how that would play out. Half the fun of being in control was the ability to make decisions based on the victim’s reactions and how much you wanted to make them suffer: if too comfortable, how relentless should you get? What patterns were the best – was tickling their ribs, then waist, while licking their nipples more fun, or did simply straddling them and wiggling your fingers relentlessly inside their armpits while rotating your ass all over their crushed, tingling cock do it for you? Did you blindfold a guy, or did you get off on staring unrelentingly into his defeated eyes to affirm your dominance?
In this case, they had a few hours, so it would probably be a less relentless session. Lots of starts and goes, maybe some blindfolding, annoyances like fingering his nose hairs, maybe licking his perineum. Then again, this guy might profit from a good, prolonged post-orgasm cock torture. No doubt he’d never had it, and he probably hadn’t felt any pain worse than stubbing his toe in his whole life. How delicious would it be to pour on a good verbal tease while overstimulating the crap out of him? Probably for him, too, closet masochist he was…
Whatever the case, though, he clearly was in uncharted waters, and she hadn’t decided how much he’d enjoy this. Rarely did a person truly despise her tickling sessions. Mr. Nichols was already hard, and he hadn’t thrashed and screamed and cursed her out like utter wimps. Was he an 80/20 pain-to-pleasure guy? 50/50? Hates tickling, loves cock tease? These are the things she considered as she crept toward his feet to remove his socks. The way he suddenly bucked and grunted as she removed one told her the next few minutes could be interesting.
“It’s funny,” she said. “I like you a little more than I thought I would now that we’re talking. But Mr. Nichols, you are the most boring teacher I’ve had in my life. I’ve had some pretty boring ones, too. Ms. Bragg in high school algebra… holy crap. Psych 101 here, 600 students in a lecture hall…good God. But you were my last lit prof, and so damn awful I almost regret my English degree.”
“Ok, Rachel. Ok, I’m sorry. Lecturing isn’t my strong suit. Really, sorry.”
By now his feet were naked, squirming and rolling around under the cool breeze, toes scrunched in anticipation. She slid her index fingers back and forth across the base of his toes on both feet, occasionally reaching down to wiggle the other four on his arches. His feet frantically began a game of cat and mouse to escape her fingers, but they weren’t fast enough to prevent the tickles from getting to him as little giggles overtook him.
“You have nice feet, Mr. Nichols. Really soft. Can you show me your toes, though?”
“GGGGG…NO..NO..NO.NOOO.COME ON!!!”
All ten fingers began to furiously scribble all over his soles. The violence of his thrashing moved the desk again, but Rachel did not relent, waiting for the tickling to sap him of enough energy to fight when he would just start laughing instead.
“Tickle, tickle, Mr. Nichols! It really does suck that your name rhymes because I’m enjoy saying it. Tickle, tickle Mr. Nichols! I won’t stop until those toes open up. You can’t buck that desk out of the room, can you? Sucks being tied up! Losing your energy, frustration, loss of will. But this is so easy for me. I could do it for hours until I got bored. Ho hum, tickle, tickle, gonna…”
Finally, he lost it.
“DAMN…HAHAHAHAHA…GOD DAMMIT!!!...HAHAHAHA!!!”
“Gotcha! Let’s see the toes now. Don’t make me find some rubber bands or string in your desk and tie them back. If I have to do that, you might lose your mind.”
He uncurled his toes and held them erect. Now exposed, Rachel’s fingers continued from his soles to the tips of his toes, sliding all over and poking between them, occasionally striking at his arches and heels to throw him off. In no time Rachel had his confused feet flailing, toes opening and closing, fluttering, kicking, her fingers and short but stiff fingernails dancing unfettered to follow every helpless movement.
“Silly man, showing those ticklish toes to me, though I guess you didn’t have a choice.”
As she watched him thrash and laugh, Rachel could feel her nipples hardening and her groin tingling. She stopped tickling his feet to quickly remove her blouse and shorts. Mr. Nichols wheezed in relief when she stopped, but his eyes widened, and he sighed a gasp of pleasure upon seeing Rachel standing before him now in nothing but a silky white bra and panties. When convinced she had his full attention, she unclipped her bra and tossed it across the room like a greedy prostitute ready to attack her favorite customer. She then stepped out of her panties to show him her recently waxed pussy and hovered above him. Rachel wasn’t what most guys would consider a 10, but there was plenty to admire. She had a delicious flat stomach and mesmerizing hazel eyes, and the hint of a smirk on her thin lips made it seem like she was perpetually in on an inside dirty joke: perfect for scaring the crap out of a helpless tickle slave.
A fresh wave of ecstasy ran through her as she rubbed his loose cotton boxer briefs with an exploratory palm. Yup, hard as a rock. She reached inside and squeezed his cock while fondling his balls and studying his face and body movements. You could tell a lot about a man when you held his junk after a good tickling. First of all, was he hard? If not, the poor dude was in agony. You may as well have been beating him over the head with a bat. If he retreated from your touch, he was probably in the 80/20 pain to pleasure club. If he jolted upward as if trying to get you to yank his cock off, he wanted you to tickle him some more, and more, and harder… Mr. Nichols was somewhere in between.
“Well, well,” she said, “we need a way to get rid of these things. Do you have scissors in your desk?”
When he didn’t answer. Rachel jammed her hands into his armpits and raked at them as if digging for gold.
“HAHAHAHAHA! YES!!!! I DO!!!!”
“Which drawer?”
“THE…HAHAHAHAHA…STOP…STOP…STOP!!!”
“The stop, stop, stop drawer? Which one is that?”
“TOP RIGHT!!!!! OK???!!!!”
“Ok, Ok, don’t lose your shit on me.”
Sure enough, there they were. She snapped them open and shut a few times to test them, then clipped his briefs off and dropped them to the floor. His erect cock pulsed as the cool air touched down.
“Good, unshaven. I like men…natural. Of course, what English professor gets a Brazilian wax?”
Rachel tiptoed around Dr. Nichols, studying him from different angles as you would a museum exhibit.
“Where are you ticklish, Dr. Nichols?”
As she expected, he didn’t answer. After guys knew they were in for it, they rarely had the energy or desire to say much except stop! or I can’t take it! or some other pathetic, typical plea. But exploration was nearly as fun as the actual tickling. After considering which part of him to go at first, she bent down and blew hot breaths all over his tummy while sliding delicate fingertips all over his goose pimpled skin. Occasionally her fingers wandered down to his waist, or to the lower edges of his ribcage. Time to get him going slowly…
“Do you like the way that feels?”
“A…a…lit…mmmppphhh…” He clamped up to avoid from laughing.
“It’s okay, you can admit it. I like a little tummy tickle, too. And please don’t hold it in. You’re going to laugh a whole lot, so best get used to it.”
As she increased the speed of her scurrying fingers, his body began to quiver and involuntarily twitch as Rachel hit the tickle spots. Dr. Nichols held his head back, closed his eyes and clamped his jaw shut so hard it seemed his teeth would crack.
“Open your eyes.”
She poked into his armpit with one finger while the other hand continued to scribble on his tummy. Giggles began to percolate, at first scattered, in between gasps of labored breathing. Rachel continued to poke at his armpit and stroke his belly until the giggles became a steady, uninterrupted stream.
“Dr. Niiiiccchhhols!” she teased. “Open your eyes.”
Looking at her seemed to make the giggling more frantic.
“Admit it, being forced to giggle and squirm by a girl turns you on. You love the vulnerability. The helplessness, like a giddy little boy one week into puberty tickled in the lap of his cute older babysitter. What’s your name?”
“PET…GGG…HA…HAHAHA…PETER!”
“Tickle, tickle on your belly, Peter. Come on and giggle like a little boy. Rachel is gonna getcha. She'll make you laugh, and laugh, and squirm, you poor helpless boy. And she's making your cock grow, and grow, and pulse, and pop out so hard you'll pull a muscle in your groin. When is she going to hold it, or lick it, or sit on it?” You won't beg - at first. But trust me, the tingling will get to you. Your body thrashing about, as if poked with an electric cattle prod, the continuous, painful laughter, the annoyance, frustration, anger, defeat, as I devour you... All the while that most ticklish six inches of flesh on your body wants nothing more than to be tickled. So ironic. It will pulse with pain and frustration. You may scream, or curse, or cry... whatever your body needs to stave off the tingling. But it just won't go away. So you will beg, because you know the torturess who owns you is the only human being on the planet who can please you."
She moved to his sides, scurrying her fingertips across his ribs, breaching out to his chest, back to his belly, his waist, his hips. The giggling became more frantic laughter.
“Do you like it now?”
“I CAN’T…HAHAHAHAHA…CA…HAHAHAHA…STOP…STOP! HAHAHAHA…LAUGHING!!”
“Yes, you can.”
“HAHAHAHA…I CAN’T!!!”
“Concentrate on my fingers, Dr. Nichols. Think hard about the sensations they are giving you and control that helpless desire. Give it a try.”
After one held deep breath, and explosion of laughter poured out of him. He yanked at wrists and bucked around as the laughter became louder.
“OH MY GOD!!! STOP…HAHAHAHAHAHHA…PLEASE!!!”
“Yeah, I lied. You can’t control it. I control you, and I like to watch you laugh.”
At that, she stopped and climbed on to the desk to straddle him on her knees, hovering over him with a devilish smile.
“What are you doing?” he said before letting out a few residual giggles. Now in place, she poked at and stroked him lightly all over his body. Each time she touched him he violently writhed and giggled.
“Look how sensitive you are. You’re like one big tickle button. This is so much fun. That dull monotonous voice is a frantic squeal now if I grab you here…”
A sortie of attacks at his tummy.
“Here…”
Grabbing and groping all over his ribs.
“But especially, here!”
He completely lost it when her teasing, wiggling fingers started sliding all over the perimeter of his armpits. He bucked, snorted, pulled at his wrists and ankles, but mostly just laughed, unyieldingly, struggling to catch a quick breath before the next flurry of strokes paralyzed his defenses. Rachel found particular joy in doing this. Forget the teasing stuff. She loved ticklish armpits, and his were really bad. Such a simple way to drive a guy crazy: light, wiggling fingers barely stroking him, occasionally sliding deep inside to add surprise, kneading at the muscles atop the ribs, all while sitting directly on top of him to watch, as if treated to a private premier of a movie she directed. This was really fun. Every time she thought about the things that had depressed her recently, she transferred the negative energy into his body and watched him try to manage it, which was pretty damn poorly. God he was out of control! It made her laugh, which seemed to piss him off at first, but he was so helpless and berserk she couldn’t identify any emotions other than agony. He couldn’t even look at her any longer. She wondered how long she needed to do this until he cried or peed himself.
“I…Rachel…”
“Come on, Mr. Nichols. You never have to see me again. Or this can be the first day of our lives together. A nice, attractive single English professor with his doting grad school girlfriend… It sounds like the plot of a Victorian novel.”
She stood up and pressed him against the desk. When he didn’t resist, she grabbed his arms and yanked his body upward until there was enough clearance to mount him on the surface of the desk. He violently swatted at the papers and books on it to the floor until it was clear as she wrestled him into position on his back. She first wound the tie into a slip knot, slid it around his wrist and secured it to part of the frame inside the top drawer. She wound his shirt into a nice cord and was able to pull his arm high above his head and tie it to the bottom of the frame.
“Careful,” he said. “You’ll pull my arm out of the socket.”
She tapped him on the nose and smiled. “I’ll be gentle.”
Securing his ankles proved to be a bigger challenge. Tying them together was simple enough, but there was no way to secure it to the desk. She scanned the room in vain until striking gold: the extension cord. Who knew why he needed what seemed like maybe a ten-footer, but who cared? It was more than enough to wind around one of the desk legs while further immobilizing his poor ankles.
After convinced that he was properly in place, she hovered over him, studying his body like a medical examiner. It was bit more muscular than she expected, though it was hard to tell just how muscular due to the modest layer of middle-age flab. Though he had only a small patch of chest hair, his legs had the luscious locks of short, curly hairs that gave her goosebumps when she watched sweaty guys playing basketball or throwing a Frisbee in the summer sun. And just like a medical examiner checking for possible muscle or bone damage, she poked and prodded at the flesh just under his ribcage. Unlike a dead body, though, he fidgeted and percolated like uncooked popcorn on its second minute in the microwave.
“Rachel!” he said and let out a short giggle.
“Tickles, huh?” Her hands slid down to his waist, which she poked at with her index fingers like little pistons. He pulled hard at his wrists and bucked up and down, shoulder blades pounding on the desk
.
“What about there?”
“Yes!!! What are you doing?”
“Just warming you up.”
“For what?”
She smirked and slowly crept her fingers up his ribcage like toy soldiers on the march until they reached the soft tissue between his nipples and armpits. There the soldiers marched in place, watching him squirm and bite on his lip for a short moment before letting out a steady stream of giggles.
“RRaaa…stop!!!...HAHAHA…Come…HAHA…What are you doing?”
Her smile widened and she cocked her head, staring directly into his eyes.
“Forward, march!!!” Her fingers scurried into the recesses of his armpits and danced around, causing him to thrash so hard the desk shook.
“WHYYYYY???...HAHAHAHAHA…STOP!!! HAHAHAHA…I DIDN’T…HAHAHAHA THINK!!!”
“Why would you? There aren’t many girls who would tie their professors to a table only to tickle them. Then again, I’m not like many girls, and it gets me really hot. Which is probably while I’m so good. Do you think I’m good?”
He shook and laughed and thrashed and yanked on his wrists and ankles, desperately trying to free them. Everything but answer her question.
“See, I know I am. It’s a curious little talent I have. I made a guy beg for me to stick a pipe cleaner in his asshole once. Of course, I didn’t do it, but watching him scream laughter while trying to get those words out was so fucking hot. I made him forget all about it afterwards, which is probably what I’ll do for you. If I feel like it, I guess.”
She relented and hovered above him while he gasped for air after the unexpected laughing fit.
“I don’t understand, Rachel. I thought we were getting along well.”
She peered through the window for a moment, considering this. He was more amiable in person, which is generally the case, she thought. It made her feel warm inside. Pleasant surprises can lift your spirits at the most unexpected moments. Tickling and cock teasing the unholy hell out of people you have some affinity for was different from just torturing a total prick. You didn’t get someone like that in your clutches very often, thank goodness. It was satisfying to make them lose their shit, but less interesting. No play at all, just torture.
This was exceeding her expectations, though she wasn’t yet sure how that would play out. Half the fun of being in control was the ability to make decisions based on the victim’s reactions and how much you wanted to make them suffer: if too comfortable, how relentless should you get? What patterns were the best – was tickling their ribs, then waist, while licking their nipples more fun, or did simply straddling them and wiggling your fingers relentlessly inside their armpits while rotating your ass all over their crushed, tingling cock do it for you? Did you blindfold a guy, or did you get off on staring unrelentingly into his defeated eyes to affirm your dominance?
In this case, they had a few hours, so it would probably be a less relentless session. Lots of starts and goes, maybe some blindfolding, annoyances like fingering his nose hairs, maybe licking his perineum. Then again, this guy might profit from a good, prolonged post-orgasm cock torture. No doubt he’d never had it, and he probably hadn’t felt any pain worse than stubbing his toe in his whole life. How delicious would it be to pour on a good verbal tease while overstimulating the crap out of him? Probably for him, too, closet masochist he was…
Whatever the case, though, he clearly was in uncharted waters, and she hadn’t decided how much he’d enjoy this. Rarely did a person truly despise her tickling sessions. Mr. Nichols was already hard, and he hadn’t thrashed and screamed and cursed her out like utter wimps. Was he an 80/20 pain-to-pleasure guy? 50/50? Hates tickling, loves cock tease? These are the things she considered as she crept toward his feet to remove his socks. The way he suddenly bucked and grunted as she removed one told her the next few minutes could be interesting.
“It’s funny,” she said. “I like you a little more than I thought I would now that we’re talking. But Mr. Nichols, you are the most boring teacher I’ve had in my life. I’ve had some pretty boring ones, too. Ms. Bragg in high school algebra… holy crap. Psych 101 here, 600 students in a lecture hall…good God. But you were my last lit prof, and so damn awful I almost regret my English degree.”
“Ok, Rachel. Ok, I’m sorry. Lecturing isn’t my strong suit. Really, sorry.”
By now his feet were naked, squirming and rolling around under the cool breeze, toes scrunched in anticipation. She slid her index fingers back and forth across the base of his toes on both feet, occasionally reaching down to wiggle the other four on his arches. His feet frantically began a game of cat and mouse to escape her fingers, but they weren’t fast enough to prevent the tickles from getting to him as little giggles overtook him.
“You have nice feet, Mr. Nichols. Really soft. Can you show me your toes, though?”
“GGGGG…NO..NO..NO.NOOO.COME ON!!!”
All ten fingers began to furiously scribble all over his soles. The violence of his thrashing moved the desk again, but Rachel did not relent, waiting for the tickling to sap him of enough energy to fight when he would just start laughing instead.
“Tickle, tickle, Mr. Nichols! It really does suck that your name rhymes because I’m enjoy saying it. Tickle, tickle Mr. Nichols! I won’t stop until those toes open up. You can’t buck that desk out of the room, can you? Sucks being tied up! Losing your energy, frustration, loss of will. But this is so easy for me. I could do it for hours until I got bored. Ho hum, tickle, tickle, gonna…”
Finally, he lost it.
“DAMN…HAHAHAHAHA…GOD DAMMIT!!!...HAHAHAHA!!!”
“Gotcha! Let’s see the toes now. Don’t make me find some rubber bands or string in your desk and tie them back. If I have to do that, you might lose your mind.”
He uncurled his toes and held them erect. Now exposed, Rachel’s fingers continued from his soles to the tips of his toes, sliding all over and poking between them, occasionally striking at his arches and heels to throw him off. In no time Rachel had his confused feet flailing, toes opening and closing, fluttering, kicking, her fingers and short but stiff fingernails dancing unfettered to follow every helpless movement.
“Silly man, showing those ticklish toes to me, though I guess you didn’t have a choice.”
As she watched him thrash and laugh, Rachel could feel her nipples hardening and her groin tingling. She stopped tickling his feet to quickly remove her blouse and shorts. Mr. Nichols wheezed in relief when she stopped, but his eyes widened, and he sighed a gasp of pleasure upon seeing Rachel standing before him now in nothing but a silky white bra and panties. When convinced she had his full attention, she unclipped her bra and tossed it across the room like a greedy prostitute ready to attack her favorite customer. She then stepped out of her panties to show him her recently waxed pussy and hovered above him. Rachel wasn’t what most guys would consider a 10, but there was plenty to admire. She had a delicious flat stomach and mesmerizing hazel eyes, and the hint of a smirk on her thin lips made it seem like she was perpetually in on an inside dirty joke: perfect for scaring the crap out of a helpless tickle slave.
A fresh wave of ecstasy ran through her as she rubbed his loose cotton boxer briefs with an exploratory palm. Yup, hard as a rock. She reached inside and squeezed his cock while fondling his balls and studying his face and body movements. You could tell a lot about a man when you held his junk after a good tickling. First of all, was he hard? If not, the poor dude was in agony. You may as well have been beating him over the head with a bat. If he retreated from your touch, he was probably in the 80/20 pain to pleasure club. If he jolted upward as if trying to get you to yank his cock off, he wanted you to tickle him some more, and more, and harder… Mr. Nichols was somewhere in between.
“Well, well,” she said, “we need a way to get rid of these things. Do you have scissors in your desk?”
When he didn’t answer. Rachel jammed her hands into his armpits and raked at them as if digging for gold.
“HAHAHAHAHA! YES!!!! I DO!!!!”
“Which drawer?”
“THE…HAHAHAHAHA…STOP…STOP…STOP!!!”
“The stop, stop, stop drawer? Which one is that?”
“TOP RIGHT!!!!! OK???!!!!”
“Ok, Ok, don’t lose your shit on me.”
Sure enough, there they were. She snapped them open and shut a few times to test them, then clipped his briefs off and dropped them to the floor. His erect cock pulsed as the cool air touched down.
“Good, unshaven. I like men…natural. Of course, what English professor gets a Brazilian wax?”
Rachel tiptoed around Dr. Nichols, studying him from different angles as you would a museum exhibit.
“Where are you ticklish, Dr. Nichols?”
As she expected, he didn’t answer. After guys knew they were in for it, they rarely had the energy or desire to say much except stop! or I can’t take it! or some other pathetic, typical plea. But exploration was nearly as fun as the actual tickling. After considering which part of him to go at first, she bent down and blew hot breaths all over his tummy while sliding delicate fingertips all over his goose pimpled skin. Occasionally her fingers wandered down to his waist, or to the lower edges of his ribcage. Time to get him going slowly…
“Do you like the way that feels?”
“A…a…lit…mmmppphhh…” He clamped up to avoid from laughing.
“It’s okay, you can admit it. I like a little tummy tickle, too. And please don’t hold it in. You’re going to laugh a whole lot, so best get used to it.”
As she increased the speed of her scurrying fingers, his body began to quiver and involuntarily twitch as Rachel hit the tickle spots. Dr. Nichols held his head back, closed his eyes and clamped his jaw shut so hard it seemed his teeth would crack.
“Open your eyes.”
She poked into his armpit with one finger while the other hand continued to scribble on his tummy. Giggles began to percolate, at first scattered, in between gasps of labored breathing. Rachel continued to poke at his armpit and stroke his belly until the giggles became a steady, uninterrupted stream.
“Dr. Niiiiccchhhols!” she teased. “Open your eyes.”
Looking at her seemed to make the giggling more frantic.
“Admit it, being forced to giggle and squirm by a girl turns you on. You love the vulnerability. The helplessness, like a giddy little boy one week into puberty tickled in the lap of his cute older babysitter. What’s your name?”
“PET…GGG…HA…HAHAHA…PETER!”
“Tickle, tickle on your belly, Peter. Come on and giggle like a little boy. Rachel is gonna getcha. She'll make you laugh, and laugh, and squirm, you poor helpless boy. And she's making your cock grow, and grow, and pulse, and pop out so hard you'll pull a muscle in your groin. When is she going to hold it, or lick it, or sit on it?” You won't beg - at first. But trust me, the tingling will get to you. Your body thrashing about, as if poked with an electric cattle prod, the continuous, painful laughter, the annoyance, frustration, anger, defeat, as I devour you... All the while that most ticklish six inches of flesh on your body wants nothing more than to be tickled. So ironic. It will pulse with pain and frustration. You may scream, or curse, or cry... whatever your body needs to stave off the tingling. But it just won't go away. So you will beg, because you know the torturess who owns you is the only human being on the planet who can please you."
She moved to his sides, scurrying her fingertips across his ribs, breaching out to his chest, back to his belly, his waist, his hips. The giggling became more frantic laughter.
“Do you like it now?”
“I CAN’T…HAHAHAHAHA…CA…HAHAHAHA…STOP…STOP! HAHAHAHA…LAUGHING!!”
“Yes, you can.”
“HAHAHAHA…I CAN’T!!!”
“Concentrate on my fingers, Dr. Nichols. Think hard about the sensations they are giving you and control that helpless desire. Give it a try.”
After one held deep breath, and explosion of laughter poured out of him. He yanked at wrists and bucked around as the laughter became louder.
“OH MY GOD!!! STOP…HAHAHAHAHAHHA…PLEASE!!!”
“Yeah, I lied. You can’t control it. I control you, and I like to watch you laugh.”
At that, she stopped and climbed on to the desk to straddle him on her knees, hovering over him with a devilish smile.
“What are you doing?” he said before letting out a few residual giggles. Now in place, she poked at and stroked him lightly all over his body. Each time she touched him he violently writhed and giggled.
“Look how sensitive you are. You’re like one big tickle button. This is so much fun. That dull monotonous voice is a frantic squeal now if I grab you here…”
A sortie of attacks at his tummy.
“Here…”
Grabbing and groping all over his ribs.
“But especially, here!”
He completely lost it when her teasing, wiggling fingers started sliding all over the perimeter of his armpits. He bucked, snorted, pulled at his wrists and ankles, but mostly just laughed, unyieldingly, struggling to catch a quick breath before the next flurry of strokes paralyzed his defenses. Rachel found particular joy in doing this. Forget the teasing stuff. She loved ticklish armpits, and his were really bad. Such a simple way to drive a guy crazy: light, wiggling fingers barely stroking him, occasionally sliding deep inside to add surprise, kneading at the muscles atop the ribs, all while sitting directly on top of him to watch, as if treated to a private premier of a movie she directed. This was really fun. Every time she thought about the things that had depressed her recently, she transferred the negative energy into his body and watched him try to manage it, which was pretty damn poorly. God he was out of control! It made her laugh, which seemed to piss him off at first, but he was so helpless and berserk she couldn’t identify any emotions other than agony. He couldn’t even look at her any longer. She wondered how long she needed to do this until he cried or peed himself.
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I like the teasing and gentle femdom a lot. This is great, thank you for sharing!
