After hanging up, the phone I go to let you in. You are wearing a sweatshirt and capries with short white socks and sneakers. You follow my gaze down and smile, “It was too cold for flip-flops, sorry”. I lead you out of the hallway and into my room. You take off your sweatshirt, revealing a tank top underneath. After some small talk, you decide its time to go and ask if I’m going to tickle you or what. I smile and tell you to stand up and walk over to my recliner. I quickly wrap a blanket around your legs snugly and then tape it down with duct tape. I help you onto the recliner and raise the legs. Your ankles are sitting on the edge of the footrest and I tie them to the rest with rope and some more duct tape. I run a cloth belt around your stomach and in the gap between the arms and back of the chair, keeping your from moving your torso much. I tell you to raise your arms, which you do, and I tie them together. I then push them so they are above your head, and run a rope from your wrists down to the base of the chair. You try to move your arms, find you can and smile again. “Now what?” you ask.
You had brought one of your socks to use as a gag, and I approach you with it now. As I reach to put it in your mouth you say, “Remember, be gentle with me.”
I blink and step back, a little shocked, “Well if that’s what you want.”
You grin and wink, “I’m just teasing Jim. I want you to tickle torture me like you’ve never tickled anyone before.”
“As you wish,” I inform you as I stick the sock in and fix it in place with tape.
Now that you are gagged, the fun can begin. I start to slowly stroke your underarms, causing you to quiver and squirm as the sensations rush to your brain. The tickling grows worse as you try to squirm away and laugh into your gag, put try as you might you can’t get your hands down to cover your bare underarms. Your eyes grow wide as you realize that as bad as this is tickling you, your weak spot is your feet, which I haven’t even touched yet. I also realize this and whisper it in your ear as my fingers explore your pits and ribs. Finally, after a few minutes of tickling, I stop and let you breath.
While you are catching your breath, I bring a tray over and set it down beside you. You can see several feathers, a comb, two pens, three different styles of hairbrush, and some toothbrushes. You start mumbling into your gag, but the words aren’t clear as I go and sit at your feet. Enjoying the look on your face I slowly start to untie your shoes. As I pull them off, I ask if you are ready. You try to shake your head but I run my nails over your socked soles anyway. You explode in laughter and try to jerk your feet away. As I spend the next thirty seconds tickling your feet, I remind you that you still have a layer between me and your soles, and how much worse it will get. Then I slowly peel your socks off, enjoying the priceless look on your face. I take your shoelaces out and tie your big toes back to where your ankles are tied with them.
Having enjoyed your expressions I what I’m doing as much as I can, I take a black cloth and blind fold you. From now on, you have only your sense of touch to know what’s going to happen. I waste no time getting to work. I use my fingers and tools to explore every square inch of your soles, arches, and toes. I try everything on my tray and find the best results. So I don’t forget what parts of your feet are hotspots, I write notes in pen there. The whole time I’m reminded you of all the months when you didn’t bother to contact me, and how this is punishment for those actions. I listen to you try to apologize and beg for mercy through the gag, but I just concentrate on making your jumbled noises louder. I occasionally give you breaks, during which I pass the time by whispering in your ear what new tool or spot I’m going to explore. After a half an hour, I’ve completed my exploration and am ready for the real punishment to begin. I spend a good while massaging copious amounts of lotion into your soles to keep them extra soft and sensitive, while telling you this will make the tickling even worse. Then I choose the tools or techniques that torture you the most and spend the next half an hour focusing on the “hot spots” of your feet, tickling you relentlessly.
After the hour of tickling, I ungag and blindfold you and allow you to beg for mercy and present your case on why I should stop. If I’m satisfied I’ll let you go, if not, the gag goes back in and the tickling continues. Which choice will it be? Only you can decide.
You had brought one of your socks to use as a gag, and I approach you with it now. As I reach to put it in your mouth you say, “Remember, be gentle with me.”
I blink and step back, a little shocked, “Well if that’s what you want.”
You grin and wink, “I’m just teasing Jim. I want you to tickle torture me like you’ve never tickled anyone before.”
“As you wish,” I inform you as I stick the sock in and fix it in place with tape.
Now that you are gagged, the fun can begin. I start to slowly stroke your underarms, causing you to quiver and squirm as the sensations rush to your brain. The tickling grows worse as you try to squirm away and laugh into your gag, put try as you might you can’t get your hands down to cover your bare underarms. Your eyes grow wide as you realize that as bad as this is tickling you, your weak spot is your feet, which I haven’t even touched yet. I also realize this and whisper it in your ear as my fingers explore your pits and ribs. Finally, after a few minutes of tickling, I stop and let you breath.
While you are catching your breath, I bring a tray over and set it down beside you. You can see several feathers, a comb, two pens, three different styles of hairbrush, and some toothbrushes. You start mumbling into your gag, but the words aren’t clear as I go and sit at your feet. Enjoying the look on your face I slowly start to untie your shoes. As I pull them off, I ask if you are ready. You try to shake your head but I run my nails over your socked soles anyway. You explode in laughter and try to jerk your feet away. As I spend the next thirty seconds tickling your feet, I remind you that you still have a layer between me and your soles, and how much worse it will get. Then I slowly peel your socks off, enjoying the priceless look on your face. I take your shoelaces out and tie your big toes back to where your ankles are tied with them.
Having enjoyed your expressions I what I’m doing as much as I can, I take a black cloth and blind fold you. From now on, you have only your sense of touch to know what’s going to happen. I waste no time getting to work. I use my fingers and tools to explore every square inch of your soles, arches, and toes. I try everything on my tray and find the best results. So I don’t forget what parts of your feet are hotspots, I write notes in pen there. The whole time I’m reminded you of all the months when you didn’t bother to contact me, and how this is punishment for those actions. I listen to you try to apologize and beg for mercy through the gag, but I just concentrate on making your jumbled noises louder. I occasionally give you breaks, during which I pass the time by whispering in your ear what new tool or spot I’m going to explore. After a half an hour, I’ve completed my exploration and am ready for the real punishment to begin. I spend a good while massaging copious amounts of lotion into your soles to keep them extra soft and sensitive, while telling you this will make the tickling even worse. Then I choose the tools or techniques that torture you the most and spend the next half an hour focusing on the “hot spots” of your feet, tickling you relentlessly.
After the hour of tickling, I ungag and blindfold you and allow you to beg for mercy and present your case on why I should stop. If I’m satisfied I’ll let you go, if not, the gag goes back in and the tickling continues. Which choice will it be? Only you can decide.
