Here's a scene from my first novel, Tabitha's Tease.
“Close your eyes,” Tabitha ordered, and he obeyed. He felt soft hands stroking his arms and legs. Delirious, horny, he writhed under her arousing touch. She had good hands, knowing hands. “Mmmm, delicious,” she cooed. “I’m going to enjoy this.” Gently, she dragged his arms above his head, and suddenly he felt something cold go around his wrists. When he heard a metallic “snap,” his eyes flew open! Tabitha had put handcuffs on his wrists and fastened the other ends to the table legs.
“Wait a minute,” he said, “W-what are you doing?”
Batting her innocent eyes, she smiled. “Why, I’m getting you ready for your punishment,” she said. “Surely you didn’t think that was it.” She pulled one of his legs out and slipped a noose over it, fastening it to another table leg. Before he could react, she had his other leg fastened. He was helpless.
“Untie me,” he pleaded. “Please. I don’t like this.”
“Shhh, this is your punishment,” she replied. “You’ve been a very bad boy. If you behave and take your punishment like a man, we may not have to get you expelled.”
The threat was enough to calm him down a little bit, but being tied up scared him.
“Perhaps,” she smiled. “But you’ll certainly be a mascot. You’ll get more if you behave and don’t argue.”
He tugged experimentally at the cuffs. He was well and truly helpless. “W-what’s going to happen to me?”
She smiled. “You’ll find out, all in good time.”
“W-what are you going to do to me?” Robin asked repeatedly, becoming increasingly frightened. What had he gotten himself into? What were they going to do to him? All this just to attend a girl’s school so I can get laid he thought, and I still haven’t gotten laid.
“Slow torture,” she smiled, trailing her fingers over his bulge. He strained upward to meet her gentle touch. Maybe this wasn’t going to be real punishment after all, he thought. Her fingers stroked gently up his chest to his nipples, and circled them sensually, scratching at them, driving him insane with tortuous pleasure. Then they began to tickle, softly, tantalizingly. “How ticklish are you, anyway?” she asked with a teasing grin on her face.
His eyes widened with shock. “Oh, my god, no, please!” he cried, desperately and futilely tearing at his shackles. He was terribly ticklish. Vulnerable and scared, he fought for freedom. If willpower could have broken his metal bonds he would have been free. Just the thought of being tickled was more than he could stand. He hated the idea. Of course, that would be his punishment.
“I guess I’ll find out myself,” she giggled. “Your underarms? The inside of your thighs? Your neck? Ooh, the widdle boy ticklish!” Her fingers played spider’s-legs over his spreadeagled and helpless body. He was ticklish, more ticklish than even he realized. Every spot she touched was more ticklish than the one before. He struggled to maintain control, then giggled helplessly, then began to laugh, cackle, convulse as the tickling grew in intensity. He pleaded desperately, his pleas choked off by bursts of helpless laughter. “No—ha, ha—please—no-oo!—hahahah!” he cried.
“I know,” she said brightly, “how about your feet?” The first scratch of her long red fingernail down his vulnerable arch made him scream helplessly. “Oh, baby, you’re very ticklish, aren’t you? Too bad. How about your kneecaps? Oh, your ribs! Careful, you almost hurt yourself. I don’t know when I’ve met someone so ticklish.” His laughter came in bursts and screams, wrenched from him at each touch of her wiggling, squirming fingers. If it weren’t for his erection, he was positive he would have wet himself.
“Oh, look! It’s been one minute. Only nine more to go,” she laughed, utterly in control and obviously enjoying herself without limit. Her wicked threat exploded in his brain. He would never live through nine more minutes of this eternal agony.
Her merciless fingers continued to tickle his underarms, his stomach, and nipples. He writhed in helpless, uncontrollable laughter, squirming futilely to escape. He begged helplessly, “No...hahaha...please...stop...aaaah...no!” But her tortuous tickling continued. Seconds passed like hours.
As soon as he seemed to have his sensations under control she switched tactics, moving from gentle tease-tickling to digging her fingers into his twisting sides, convulsing him in agonies of bursting laughter. “Poor baby,” she laughed. “What’s the matter? Am I getting to you already? That can’t be right. I’ve got nearly six minutes to go!” Each announcement of time only prolonged his agony. Eternity minus eternity is still eternity.
Tabitha straddled his helpless body and sat down so her panty-clad crotch rubbed against the bulge of his hungry cock. Then she attacked his vulnerable torso with her fingernails. He giggled and sputtered and pleaded with her to stop wiggling her fingers in his armpits, tracing her fingers up and down his arms and chest, and making slow, tormenting circles around his rock-hard nipples. She dug her fingers into his sensitive sides, making him howl with agony. She tickled his ribs and tormented the agonizingly sensitive ridge of his hip with her fingertips.
“Oh, ha-ha, I ca-can’t stand-ha-ha-any more!” he pleaded futilely.
“Oh, I could,” she smiled. “I’m having so much fun I could extend it at least another ten minutes. How about you? Could you take fifteen more minutes of this? Your face is all red and there are tears in your eyes.”
Devilishly, she traced the contours of his neck and sides, sending shivers up and down his body. Slowly and tormentingly, she moved her tickling fingers down his body, switching back and forth from tease-tickle to outrageous attacks on his ribcage.
Robin had never been so helpless, so unable to control his fate, so completely at the mercy of another. His cock pulsed and bounced, desperate and crazy for attention, for some warm, wet place to go. But as devastating as this torture was, it was still about the sexiest thing that had ever happened to him.
Tabitha wiggled around, showing off her cute ass in a skirt that had ridden up high enough to reveal her pink panties, and then began to tickle the soles of his feet by dragging her nails up and down the sensitive flesh, driving him into a renewed frenzy. She laughed at his pleas and tickled his feet with even greater enthusiasm. He could feel his sanity slipping away in one eternal burst of sexual agony.
Finally, finally, she looked at her watch. “Your ten minutes are up,” she smiled.
Stunned, head reeling, his body a mass of sensitive nerves, he gasped for breath during the respite. He could barely concentrate on anything, but he was immensely relieved the torment had stopped, at least for now. He was still a prisoner, though. Experimentally he tugged at the cuffs and ropes. He could feel the red marks where the bonds had bitten into his wrists and ankles during his long, futile struggle.
Tabitha stood up and smoothed down her dress. He looked hungrily at her. Perhaps now he’d get what he so desperately needed. His cock was so hard the sight of her body was nearly enough to trigger his orgasm.
“Enjoy yourself, baby?” she asked teasingly. Perching beside him on the table, she stroked her hands over him, rubbing her palm over his hardness. “Hmmm, looks like you leaked just a little bit.” She giggled. “Do you like being tickled?”