• The TMF is sponsored by Clips4sale - By supporting them, you're supporting us.
  • >>> If you cannot get into your account email me at [email protected] <<<
    Don't forget to include your username

The TMF is sponsored by:

Clips4Sale Banner

The Lost E.A.P Letters

Volsung

Verified
Joined
Jul 27, 2007
Messages
1,763
Points
0
Well, I suppose introductions are in order. After all, considering recent events, it really should be no surprise to you all that this testimonial should finally surface at this point, as it has. Shall we say that it was… bound to happen. But I’m getting ahead of myself certainly. My name is Helen. Helen of Baltimore, not to beat around the bush about it. You need not know anymore details as to my situation than that, thank you very much, as I am in general… a very private person. The few people who know me can back me up on that, I’m sure. To cut to the chase you could say that I was back in those days Goth, before anybody even knew what Goth was. Though this demeanor was not my initial intention, I can assure you, I suppose that I was a victim of my surroundings. My countenance seemed, thrust upon me as I rarely went outside. My skin was pallid, I wore black nearly always. This self imposed raison d'être kept the common person at bay, which suited me just fine.

This leads me to the next point, that is to say my relationship with one E.A.P. Those of you with enough mental faculties will of course know who I’m talking about. When I knew him he was middle aged, but looked a bit older, as though work or stress had stripped him of his life expectancy. He was slightly shorter than common height, and who’s body was slightly less than regular build. The look on his face seemed to reflect a certain brooding quality. His eyes were dark and piercing, as though he could see into your very soul, if he had wished to. Near the end of his days though, he had the look of a black cat that was somehow backed into a corner. Withered and gaunt… you know? I guess I’m partially to blame for that, but I’m getting ahead again, aren’t I…

We had had many, for the lack of a better word, ‘sessions’ before. I must say that the first ones were rather common and trite. It’s funny actually, thinking back on it all; it was like he was mentally doing a bit of homework or research in his head each time. I would tie him up very tightly and taunt him with some hidden purpose. He would drive himself into a state of confusion and panic, enjoying (I think) the deprivation or loss of control over the situation. Nearly all the sessions ended with a bit of tickling, which seemed to be his ‘trigger’. Then he would laugh until he could physically laugh no more and thus drift off into a state of unconsciousness. I would untie him, drag his body to a nearby bed, where he would sleep it off. Sometimes it was weeks before I would see him again and we would have another session. But always, he would leave a little note for me to read, hidden under the pillow. These notes he left were descriptions of what kind of things we might try for our next get together. As you can imagine, the scenarios methodically escalated in their severity and complexity with each visit. I had the feeling that all his monetary income were for ‘the cause’, that is to say, for the continuation of our little get together’s, as his general health seemed in question. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining in the very least. I have a dark side, same as everybody else. And E.A.P. was certainly filling in that need for me as well I’m sure.

There were several common elements to our sessions… Many of these bordered on the macabre and fantastic. I always dressed in a black hooded robe which hid my face and features. This he said was necessary in our little sessions, for it symbolized death for him. Death, mocking him… forcing him to face his disgrace and shame. Thus he seemed to thrive mainly on confinement and humiliation. As though he were playing with that social, invisible line of what was proper and what he would never dare share with the rest of the world… his fetish, if you will… I once cemented his ankles into a wall, so that his feet were sticking out of the wall. This of course left the rest of his body obstructed from view on the other side. I then stripped him of his shoes and stockings and began tickling his bare feet with a common raven’s feather, which he always brought several with him to our little sessions. You had to listen very carefully to be able to hear the cacophony of laughter on the other side of the wall, but it was there. Then I would feather tickle him until the muffled laughter faded away into silence.

For another particular session, I wanted to explore some upper body tickling and torture. The challenge of course was how to keep his arms out of the way and immobile. Then suddenly the thought came to me. I hurried to my work room and using several long strips of hemp rope, started weaving them together. The idea was so simple yet, so efficient… I simply expanded the Chinese finger trap idea and constructed a large version, about two feet in length total. Then with the subject in front of me, I brought his hands behind his head, then proceeded to slip the round cylinder through one arm and then the other, so that his hands overlapped within the tube. It was perfect. The tube securely held him in place behind his head, and the stiffness of the bamboo kept his elbows from flexing. Of course he soon discovered that trying to get out of that contraption, only made his bonds tighter. After hours of tickling and torture, I had to practically destroy the thing to get it off him.

I once placed him on a examination table and firmly shackled him to it. Satisfied that he was completely immobile, I took some thick mud and applied it to his mouth and eyelids. The mud soon became crusted and hard, thus efficiently depriving him of speech and sight. Then using a scalpel, I freed him from all his clothing. The poor whimpering fool filled me with such a feeling of dominance, like nothing I had experienced before… His sense of touch and hearing were then immediately enhanced as I continued the procedure. I took one of the raven feathers and purposefully ran it up and down his entire nude body, noting where the ticklish areas were. Since I took away some of his senses, I could only tell the ticklish places by the way he squirmed and moaned. It was interesting to note that feather tickling his feet and nipples definitely had a ‘cause and effect’ on his penis as it would become tumescent when I applied the feather to these sensitive areas.

The next day (October 8) I read in the local newspaper about some famous writer who had been found “delirious and in great distress” in the streets of our town. The article said that he was found wearing clothes that were not his own. My heart seemed to leap up into my throat as I incredulously continued reading. As I sought to piece the puzzle together in my mind, I could not help but to ask myself “Was this the man?” He died, a couple of days later. I was naturally traumatized, as I alone recognized the fate of this great man’s demise. I had killed him, or at the very least, led him to his death. And I alone knew what he died of… yes… his death could be explained away because of several medical conditions that had affected him, and some of these were even mentioned in the news article. But I alone knew… Edgar Allan Poe was, in the end... tickled to death.
 
Last edited:
Funny thing...while reading this wicked little speculation, I kept hearing the beating of an...infernal...heart!
Excuse me, I need to go down into the cellar for a stiff drink of amontillado...
 
What an interesting twist at the end - always enjoyed Poe's stories...interesting to think of him going out "delirious" like that. Morbid in the spirit of Poe for sure ;) Loved the idea of him wanting to be helpless, restrained and "pleasured" by the tickling (always like a good torso/nipple tickling session ;)). At least he died happy in this scenario I suppose ;)
 
What's New

3/28/2024
Stop by the TMF Welcome Forum and take a second to say hello!
Tickle Experiment
Door 44
NEST 2024
Register here
The world's largest online clip store
Live Camgirls!
Live Camgirls
Streaming Videos
Pic of the Week
Pic of the Week
Congratulations to
*** brad1701 ***
The winner of our weekly Trivia, held every Sunday night at 11PM EST in our Chat Room
Back
Top